Phantom's Proposal
by FantomPhan33
Summary: Erik Thorn is the mysterious multi-billion dollar CEO of Phantom Industries in New York. Yet when he meets Christine Daaé, he believes she's the one person he might actually be able to love. But instead of trying to romance the girl, like any normal man would, Erik instead offers her a business proposal, pure and simple. Or so it seems. (Not a 50 Shades story.)
1. Chapter 1

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 **GREETINGS and SALUTATIONS!**

 **I'm Back!**

 **I know it's been over a years since I left, but I've spent the last 18 months on a quest with thirteen dwarves, one hobbit, and a wizard over in Middle Earth. (writing under the name ThatOtherWriterGirl for the Hobbit fandom.) I had a lot of fun there, but I found I missed my dear, sweet Erik, so I hurried on back.**

 **I want to thank all those who kept asking if my modern day Erik story would ever get posted, since you made me eager to see it finished. And while I'm not quite done yet, I think I have enough chapters stored up to keep ahead of you voracious readers. I plan on posting the first four chapters rather quickly, and then slow down to a manageable pace of just two per week.**

 **Welcome back to all my returning readers, and a great big hello to all the new ones. Erik and I love reviews, and I do answer each and every one of them!**

 **Also, even though Erik is the rich and mysterious CEO, and he makes a business proposition to Christine...this is NOT a "50 Shades of Phantom" kind of story. Not at all. Just wanted to get that straight right off the bat.**

 **Now, on with the show!**

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 **Phantom's Proposal**

 _All Rights Reserved_

 _Copyright © 2017 **  
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 **Chapter 1**

 **~X~**

* * *

 _What was she even doing here?_ Christine thought to herself for the hundredth time. This was insane… _she_ was insane! No…it was Erik Thorn who was the madman in all this, and she had the two-thousand eight hundred and twenty-seven dollars in cash to prove it. She clutched her purse a bit tighter as she thought of the large sum of money stored inside, looking around the massive waiting room as if she expected a thief to jump out at any moment and take it from her. Yet the only one besides her in the entire room was the receptionist who glanced up occasionally, giving her an almost nervous smile.

If it wasn't for the money, Christine wouldn't be sitting there now, waiting for Mr. Thorn to deem her worthy to be seen. Granted she had only been waiting for five minutes, but as nervous as she was, it already seemed like hours. How on earth had that man known the exact amount she was in need of to pay her currently overdue rent, as well as the back money she owed? He was a strange one, that was for sure…strange, dangerous and obviously manipulative. The letter with the money had arrived yesterday, asking that she meet him here at Phantom Industries, his high-rise office building in the middle of town, stating that he had a very lucrative business proposal for her. There was no way she would have accepted his invitation if it had not been accompanied by the cash, and she was certain he knew that. Christine had decided to come today for one reason only - to throw the money back in his face and tell him that she could not be bought! And yet…keeping the money would save her from being evicted from her small and dreary one bedroom apartment, not to mention avoiding a black mark on her rental history.

Yet none of that mattered more than her pride and integrity, so gripping her bag even tighter, she was determined to do the right thing. She would return the money and after listening politely to whatever this man proposed, she would turn him down and walk out with her head held high and her honor intact. Yes, that was exactly what she would do.

"I am so sorry to keep you waiting, but Mr. Thorn is on an overseas conference call and these things do take time," the pretty secretary with long blond hair spoke up. "Would you care for a cup of coffee while you wait…a muffin perhaps?"

"No…thank you. I'm fine," Christine replied, giving the woman a nod of understanding. It was hardly _her_ fault that the man she came to see was too busy to even keep an appointment he had made in the first place! Perhaps Christine would take a few dollars out of the money he gave her to pay for her time and trouble. It would serve him right if she did, and besides it was not as if _he_ needed it back. Just looking around his office, she suspected that simply one of the paintings or sculptures, so prominently displayed, probably cost more than everything she owned put together.

Christine glanced at the clock once more; seven minutes past the hour. She made a mental calculation and decided to charge Mr. Thorn ten dollars a minute after their scheduled appointment time. It was perhaps a bit pricey, but her spare time was very limited these days, thus making it precious to her, as well as to her father. As a result, Christine had no qualms about charging him for wasting it. It seemed only fair.

As she watched another minute tick by, and another ten dollars added to her bank account, she thought back to the first time she had laid eyes on Erik Thorn. Had it truly only been a month since he originally came into the restaurant? Yet the passage of time was not something Christine paid much attention to lately, for every day seemed to bring with it more troubles, bills and heartache. Oh, if only she had known then what she knew now…

~XXX~

It had been a normal Monday night, nothing special…until _they_ walked in. Five men, most of them dressed in dark suits, all looking as if they had just stepped out of some mafia movie…all but one. _Erik Thorn._ Granted she did not know his name back then, but he still stood out like a sore thumb amongst the others. Mostly because he wore a mask…and not just any mask, but a full faced white mask that left only his lips uncovered. Of course her first thought was that he was in disguise, perhaps just coming from some fancy masquerade party and had forgotten to remove it. Then her next thought was that he was trying to not be recognized, and considering who he was with, she could easily understand his motives. Yet, he did not seem uncomfortable or nervous in any way. In fact, he seemed in control of everyone and everything the moment he walked in, making all sit up and take notice.

The mysterious group headed for the back table, one of the few in the place that was large enough to accommodate their number. Christine gave a groan as she saw that it was table five, right in the middle of her section, and she realized that _she_ would be the one assigned to wait on them. Granted they had many unsavory characters frequent this place, seeing as how it was not located in the nicest part of town, but Raffie, the owner, did his best to keep the place clean and free of any lowlifes who wished to make it their usual hangout. The food was excellent and Christine and her fellow waitresses did their best to keep the customers happy as well as served promptly. In between waiting tables, each girl was expected to perform one song per night, as a bit of a dinner theater, in hopes of classing up the place. It might be the job in food service that paid the bills, but it was that one performance a night that kept Christine's dreams alive…and right now she needed that.

"Man, Christine, tough break," Maria whispered as the two of them watched the men being seated at her table. "I don't envy you."

Christine gave a sigh and squared her shoulders. She would not let this get her down, not tonight.

"Who knows…maybe they'll be big tippers," she spoke up, tossing her associate a hopeful grin.

"I'm not sure you would want their money," Maria warned. "You know what kind of men those are, right?"

"Rich?" she guessed optimistically, knowing that was not what her workmate meant at all.

"They're thugs, Christine!" she hissed, placing her finger to her nose and bending it over just a bit for emphasis. "Mobsters…you know, like Scarface and the Godfather? Look, that one in the back is even wearing a mask! What does that tell you?" Maria did not even wait for her friend to reply, simply rattling on with her one track mind. "It tells me that he's dangerous, that's what. So you best be careful!" She then hurried off to take care of her own tables, leaving Christine even more nervous than before.

"Oh, well, nothing to do but bite the bullet and get it over with," she mumbled to herself as she pulled her receipt book out of her pocket and her pen from behind her ear. Not for the first time, and certainly not the last, she wished the uniforms they were required to wear fell a bit lower on her legs. They were not immodest by any means, but still, Christine was not always comfortable approaching men dressed as she was. Yet, a job was a job and this one had the added bonus of free meals and singing as a perk.

"Good evening, gentlemen, my name is Christine and I will be serving you tonight. May I start you off with something to drink?" she spoke the words by rote, having said them half a million times since she took the job last year.

"Well, hello there," the man closest to her left replied, as he turned and gave her a leering look, his eyes roaming up and down her curvaceous form. "Aren't you a sweet thing?"

Christine could not help but sigh and roll her eyes in irritation and disgust, even if she had heard it all before. During her time at the restaurant, men had called her everything from beautiful to scrumptious – as if she were some piece of pie that could be found on the menu. Most of the time she just ignored them or laughed it off, but for some reason this time it really bothered her.

Christine had never viewed herself as anything more than average, though her father had always been quick to point out just how much she resembled her beautiful mother. She was of medium height and slender, with long chestnut brown hair that was currently tied up in a ponytail and cascading down her back in an unruly river of natural curls. And even though she got her share of compliments, Christine felt no more special than any other girl you would meet on any street here in New York. Besides that, she had been on her feet most of the day, had spent far too much time in the sauna-like kitchen, and she was sure she looked a mess. Yet this creep had the audacity to try and make her believe she appeared appealing? The man was obviously delusional…or extremely desperate.

"And what can I get for the rest of you?" she asked the others, purposefully ignoring the rude one in front of her.

"I will have a scotch on the rocks," the next one informed her, leaning back as he too gave her an appraising stare. Thankfully he held his tongue and said nothing offensive as the other two men on her right also gave their orders. Finally the obnoxious one decided to give an answer to her question, realizing that he would not be getting a rise out of her.

"And you, sir?" she asked the dark haired man in the back, the one who wore the odd facial covering. When he did not answer right away, she looked up from her pad and met his gaze…a moment, which would forever be etched in her mind. He had piercing amber eyes that were nothing short of terrifying…and yet, equally compelling. They were not cold and dark like those of his companions, instead they were attractive and filled with curiosity as well as a touch of… _wonderment?_ It almost made her feel like a small woodland creature, caught in the predatory stare of some approaching beast, seeking to devour her. It left her breathless and unable to look away, fearing that if she took her eyes off of his, her whole world might somehow crumble to pieces. He held her gaze for a long while…both of them lost in this moment of silent assessment, until one of the men cleared his throat.

"Are you going to order or not, Thorn?" he asked, apparently irritated by the delay.

"Water," the masked man spoke up, his voice like nothing Christine had ever heard before. It was an intoxicating mixture of music and raw sex…the kind of voice she imagined would leave a woman weak in the knees, and begging to hear it whispered to her in a darkened bedroom. Not that Christine had ever experienced such a thing herself, her life had been far too complicated lately to even think of dates or lovers. But she read books and watched movies, and in her mind she could just picture what the man before her was capable of if he chose to wield his sexual prowess on some helpless female.

"Only water?" she asked, her dry throat suddenly in desperate need of the liquid in question. "Nothing else?"

"With ice," he added, one corner of his perfectly formed lips rising in what could only be classified as a confident smirk.

"I…I'll be right back with your orders," Christine stammered, finally able to tear her eyes from his as she practically ran away from the table. Once behind the kitchen doors she braced herself against the porcelain sink and took a few deep breaths. _Who was that man?_

"That bad, huh?" Maria asked, sneaking up behind her and making her jump. "I told you those fellas were bad news."

"No…it...it's all right," Christine lied, straightening up and doing her best to appear convincing. "I can handle it…I mean, we've all dealt with worse." Though for the life of her she couldn't honestly remember when.

"Well, if you say so," Maria eyed her suspiciously. "But if you need any help, you just give a shout."

"Help with what?" It was the manager, Raffie, who came walking up, hearing some of the conversation and noting the concern in Maria's eyes. "Is someone giving one of my girls trouble?"

"The goons at table five," Maria was quick to inform him. "They look like bad news."

"Is this true, Christine? Did they act inappropriately towards you?" He was actually a very kind man, not what you would expect from the hard-nosed businessman out to make a buck, but he truly cared about his employees.

"They have said nothing more than what some of the college boys do when they come in from time to time," she assured him, giving him a smile. "It's just that…well…"

"They're mobsters, Raffie, plain as day!" Maria continued to insist. "One of them is even wearing a mask for pity's sake!"

"Mobsters? Seriously, Maria, you watch too much television," Raffie chuckled, walking over to the swinging door and peeking out the round glass window, scanning the room until his eyes settled on table five. "Hmmmm, they do seem rather shady, but I wouldn't be the first to cry Mafia. And the one with the mask…I think I might know who he is."

"You do?" This shocked Christine and she approached the doors as well, peeking out over Raffie's shoulder.

"Not personally, but by reputation," her boss confessed. "I'm willing to bet that's the reclusive billionaire, Erik Thorn, the CEO of Phantom Industries. He doesn't grant interviews or consent to having his picture plastered in all the newspapers, but rumor is he wears a mask to hide some kind of deformity…and from what I hear, it aint pretty." He then gave a shrug of his shoulders. "Yet how much stock can you put in rumors these days, he probably just does it to hide his true identity. You know, kind of like how some of those country stars always wear cowboy hats and a beard while performing. That way, when they want to go around as normal people they just shave, remove the hat, and no one recognizes them. Maybe he does the same thing…wears the mask so that when he walks around like a regular guy, he's invisible. I'm sure with as much money as he has, having no one know who you are from time to time can be a blessing. I'd be more willing to believe that scenario than the one where he's said to have a face that looks like death," Raffie said with a slight chuckle.

"When I took their order, one of the other men did call him Thorn," Christine confessed, now even more in awe of the man who had caused her so much panic. With those eyes, that voice, and money to burn…he wasn't dangerous, he was downright deadly!

"Well there you have it," Raffie concluded. "Yet the rest of those men…I have to agree with Maria…they look like trouble. You sure you can handle them, Christine?"

"Pretty sure," she told him, giving a weak smile.

"Well, I'll be close by, so if they start hassling you, just flash me a sign and I'll take over," he assured her, giving her a wink of assurance. "In the meantime, you best not keep them waiting. With Thorn in the mix, you don't want to risk losing out on a big tip due to slow service."

"Yes, sir," Christine laughed, feeling much better now that she knew someone was backing her up. So after taking one last deep breath she headed out the door and towards the bar to fill their drink orders.

.

.

When she returned with her tray, laden with both alcohol and a tall glass of ice water, Christine did her best to avoid eye contact with any of the men, listing off their orders as she sat them in front of each man. Once everyone was served she set the empty tray on a nearby table and pulled out her receipt book once more.

"Have you all decided what you would like?" she asked, noting that they had closed the menus the hostess had given them when they had been seated. Christine did her best to keep any hint of trepidation out of her voice, but even she knew she was not fooling anyone.

"What do you recommend, honey?" the man on her immediate left asked, causing her to cringe once more at his rude comment.

"The sea bass is fresh tonight," she rattled off. _And so are you, it would seem,_ she thought to herself, refusing to look up as she spoke. "The chef has also prepared a very tasty eggplant parmesan."

"And what do you recommend for dessert, darling?" he continued, his tone suddenly becoming even more smarmy, if that was at all possible. Yet, before Christine could open her mouth to answer, the man's hand shot out and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her forward as she stumbled and fell against him, bringing their faces…and lips… dangerously close to each other. "How about I take a sample from you now, and then have you come back to my place for the full course, sweet thing?"

Christine was aghast, shocked and completely stunned by his actions. Her mouth fell open and her eyes grew wide as she fought for something to say…anything that might get her out of the predicament…and this man's arms. Just when she had gained enough of her wits to begin to struggle, mentally calculating the most damaging spot to place her knee and inflict some pain, the lecherous lout suddenly froze, his face morphing from confident to panicked in the space of two seconds.

"I would suggest you let the lady go, Morte," came the sultry voice of the man in the back. Yet this time it held more of a threatening tone, one that promised misery and pain if one did not comply with his wishes. "That is… _if_ you want this meeting to continue without any hard feelings."

Christine noted that the fellow sitting between the masked man and Morte had pushed his chair back from the table, a look of shock on his face. Following his eyes, she caught a glint of metal where Thorn's hand met with her would-be accoster. Christine was not sure if it was a gun or a knife, and truth be told, she didn't _want_ to know. But whatever it was, it had the man still holding her sweating with fear.

"Hey, now…" he began, loosening his hold on Christine enough so that she was able to regain her footing and stand up. "It was just a bit of fun…no harm done…right, darling? It was all a joke."

"The lady does not seem to be laughing, now does she?" the masked man continued. "And her name is Christine…not honey, or darling, and certainly not sweet thing! Understood?"

"Yah…sure, whatever you say," the man stammered, while the other three watched on with what Christine considered respectful compliance. It was her guess that if this Thorn chose to turn violent at that moment, none of the others would lift a finger to help this Morte fellow. She was spared having to find out, by the sudden and greatly appreciated appearance of Raffie, apparently having kept an eye on the situation like he promised.

"Is there a problem here, boys?" he asked, pushing up his shirtsleeves as if he were preparing for a fistfight. It occurred to her that he might seem a bit more intimidating were he not wearing a bow-tie and an apron.

"No trouble at all," Thorn replied, sitting back in his seat, his right hand gliding under the table for a moment, before reappearing as he opened his arms in an innocent gesture.

"Right," Raffie replied, not sounding at all convinced. He eyed the now sweating pig of a man to his left, having seen exactly what had happened between him and Christine. He would have liked nothing more than to toss them all out on their ear, but even Raffie feared the repercussions of what might happen should he do something so insulting. If these were indeed mobsters, like Maria had been saying, then it was best not to make enemies. Still, he could not allow them to treat his girls that way! "Christine, isn't it almost time for your performance?" he asked, looking over at the slightly shaken girl, and taking pity on her. "I'll cover your stations, so you can go get ready."

It was at least an hour before she was scheduled to sing that night, yet Christine was not about to pass up the opportunity to escape all this and turn the table over to Raffie. Giving him a grateful nod of thanks, she picked up the tray and headed for the backroom, eager to find a quiet spot in which to break down. Yet as she went, she couldn't help but steal one last look at Erik Thorn, whose eyes seemed to bore into her with the heat of a thousand suns.

"Now…what'll you all be having?" Raffie asked gruffly as he whipped out his own tablet and began to take their orders.

.

.

By the time her turn came to take the stage, Christine was feeling much better, and she attempted to put the confrontation at table five out of her mind. Singing had always been her joy, her passion, yet when her father had become ill, she was forced to drop out of music school and find work. That had been a year ago, and each day since Christine felt like her life was slipping farther and farther from her grasp. Yet for the next few minutes, she would lose herself in the music….forget all her troubles, and just sing. And that was exactly what she did, not even noticing the piercing pair of amber eyes that never left her as she raised her voice in song. However, the very large tip that had been left at table five, wrapped in a napkin with Christine's name written across it, gave her _some_ idea that he might have still been watching.

.

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While that had been the first time Christine saw Erik Thorn, it would not be the last. The very next evening he came back, thankfully alone this time, requested table five, and sat there until she came to take his order. He asked for ice water again, as well as the special, not even bothering to inquire what it might be. Christine was not sure if she should speak to him about what happened the previous night, perhaps thank him for intervening on her behalf. Yet he did not seem eager to discuss anything but his order, so she kept things professional, doing her job and nothing more.

The next night, and just about every one after that, the masked man returned, showing up at the restaurant and requesting the same table as well as ordering the same thing. He hardly ever touched his meal, only sipping at his water glass as his eyes stalked her every move. At first it was very unnerving, yet after so many nights, it began to feel less invasive…less threatening. Sometimes he would bring a laptop and a folder full of papers to work on, spreading them out over the large table and appearing completely engrossed in his work until Christine approached. Then he would shut the computer, push the papers aside and wait for her to speak, appearing almost eager to hear her voice.

Each night he would leave directly after Christine's performance, always placing a large gratuity within the folds of a napkin with her name written on it. All the tips earned by the waitresses were split between them equally, giving a share to the hostess and the busboys, since they too only made minimum wage. The others were always curious as to how much Christine's mysterious man left each night, and often credited a new pair of shoes or handbag to his generosity. Even Maria, who had originally been dead set against 'his kind', as she still referred to him, now looked forward to his presence each night.

Christine had grown accustomed to finding his nightly gratuities, yet when he began to write a few words about her singing on the napkin as well, she was shocked! It was not exactly criticism, more like helpful suggestions on how she might improve the song, yet his words stung her pride and Christine quickly wadded up the napkin and tossed it in the garbage in a huff. What the heck did _he_ know about music? Who was _he_ to lecture _her_ on breathing techniques and how to hold a note longer? What a colossal jerk!

A few weeks later, Erik arrived to find there was already a party seated at table five, enjoying their meal and lively conversation. He waved off the hostess' offer to be seated elsewhere, and marched right over to the group. He slapped a hundred dollar bill down on the table, and in a very authoritative voice told them to _move!_ They only stared at him in stunned silence for a few seconds, before picking up their half-eaten plates and quickly relocating across the room. Obviously pleased with himself, Erik sat down, took a linen handkerchief out of his pocket and began to dust the crumbs off the table, making things a bit neater.

Christine had been delivering an order to one of her other tables when she caught sight of what Erik had done. Her customary warm smile faded to a look of pure rage, and she set the tray down in the middle of the group rather abruptly, tipping over a water glass and a basket of breadsticks in the process. With a hasty word of apology, Christine left them to serve themselves, and marched directly over to table five. Fully intent on giving Mr. Thorn a much overdue piece of her mind!

"Who do you think you are?" she hissed through clenched teeth, doing her best to keep her voice low, while still letting her ire show. "Those were some of my best customers! How dare you treat them so callously?"

"It is six o'clock," he stated matter of factly. "I always come in at six o'clock and sit at table five. If you had simply held my table open, I would never have had to relocate them. The fault is clearly not mine. Besides, they were well compensated for the inconvenience."

"That's not the point!" Christine seethed. "Just because you are some big shot rich guy, does not give you the right to treat people like you can buy them!"

"Are you certain of that?" he asked, his lips upturned in a bit of a self-satisfied smirk.

"Yes! I am!" He was such an infuriating man!

"Yet here I am, at _my_ table nonetheless," he pointed out, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back in his seat. "So are you going to take my order, or not?"

"Why should I bother? You always ask for the special, no matter what I say it is, along with your customary glass of water…with ice," she ranted on.

"Have I truly grown so predictable?" he inquired, that smug little smile of his making her want to throw something at him. "Very well. I will have a glass of ginger ale, no ice and the…fish and chips, I believe."

Christine stared at him for a long moment, unable to fathom the arrogance of this man. All she wanted to do was reach across the table and slap that mask right off his face! Instead, she gave an angry huff, turned on her heel and stomped off to the kitchen to fetch his order.

~XXX~

That had been over two weeks ago, and the last time _she_ had seen him at the restaurant. Maria had told her that he had come in the very next evening, yet she had been forced to take an unexpected night off, needing to be at her father's side more than the money working would have provided. Yet after that, he seemed to suddenly disappear, not showing up at his usual time or coming in to listen to her sing. Christine told herself that she should be happy about his absence, even if everyone did miss his generous tips. However, when the letter arrived, with the fistful of cash and the note demanding her presence at his office, her happiness turned to outrage.

Today she would tell Erik Thorn, in no uncertain terms, to quit coming to the restaurant, to stop sitting in _her_ section, and that she would no longer be humoring his creepy stalker ways. However, the longer she sat there, fretting over what she might say, the more she realized exactly what a dangerous position she had placed herself in. This was his domain… _his territory_ , and here there was no Raffie to step in, should things turn dangerous. Granted he had never acted in anyway threatening towards her…yet she was not fool enough to imagine he was incapable of such things. What was she doing? She really _was_ insane!

Christine had just stood up to leave, deciding to simply mail the money back to him…minus her fee for coming here and being made to wait, of course, when she heard a buzz at the receptionist's desk.

"Yes, Mr. Thorn?" the perky girl asked, pushing a button down on the phone as she spoke into the intercom.

"You may send in Miss Daaé," came the mellifluous voice on the other end. "I am ready for her now."

 _Oh, God,_ Christine thought to herself. _He might be ready for me….but am I ready for him?  
_

* * *

 **Ready or not...here he comes!  
**

 **Well, what do you think so far? Is Christine in a heap of trouble or what?**

 **And what was Erik doing that night at the restaurant with those goons? How did Erik find out the details of her financial situation? But most importantly, what do you think will happen when Christine walks into his office?**

 **Tune in on Tuesday and find out!**

* * *

 **Here is where I would normally put any guest reviews, for those who leave them but don't have an account for me to respond to them in person. But since this is Chapter 1...there are none yet. ha ha. Maybe next time.** _  
_


	2. Chapter 2

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 **Wow! I'm absolutely thrilled to see so many of you reading and reviewing! It makes me want to post quicker. So look...I DID. ha ha  
**

 **Well, we saw things from Christine's point of view in the last chapter. Now let's delve into Erik's mind a bit more. Be sure to bring your flashlights and mark your path, since it is very dark and confusing in there. ha ha.**

 **Onward!**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 2**

 **~X~**

* * *

"Are you sure nothing has been left out?" Erik asked, scanning over the paperwork once again. He looked up at the woman wearing the stylish grey pencil skirt and blouse, standing on the other side of his desk, and eyed her skeptically. Now in her mid-forties, Antoinette Giry had been working as his legal counsel for the past ten years, and while she had never let him down before… _this time it was personal._ "There are no loopholes? No possible way she could legally get out of it?"

"I have gone over the contract with a fine-tooth comb," Antoinette assured him, tucking a lock of her black, shoulder-length hair behind one ear as she gave an exasperated sigh. "You hired me because I'm the best, remember? It's ironclad, trust me."

"I trust no one," Erik muttered, returning his eyes to the papers in front of him. If Christine was to sign them, he would then have everything he wanted…he would have _her._ Yet, the issue would be to convince her to do so with as little fuss as possible. Erik was not a man who accepted failure, and this was probably the most important meeting he had ever scheduled.

"Are you certain you wish to go through with this?" Antoinette questioned, feeling rather unsure about her employer's motives in this case. She had been with Phantom Industries for quite a number of years, and in that time she had seen Mr. Thorn deal with a lot of shady characters, take over multi-million dollar corporations, and bankroll dozens of risky ventures…all without batting an eye. And yet, when he had sat her down earlier this week and mapped out just how _this_ contract was to be written, it was obvious that he was heavily invested in this particular deal… _emotionally._ Who was this girl, and what had caused a man like Erik Thorn to suddenly become almost obsessed with possessing her? From the way he insisted the contract be worded, he would gain control over just about every aspect of her life for at least the next eighteen to twenty years…after that, well that was anyone's guess. Yet the question still remained… _why?_ "I'm not sure that any girl would agree to such terms, no matter what you might be offering in return."

"The last time I checked, I do not pay you to second guess me, or play the devil's advocate," he responded, his voice taking on a threatening tone.

"No, I suppose not," she replied, doing her best to keep the fear out of her words. "Besides, you and Lucifer are already such close friends, what good would that do?"

This comment bought her an icy glare from the man before her. She knew she was treading on thin ice, but she felt the need to speak her mind on this questionable issue. Besides, Antoinette had found that standing up to Mr. Thorn often gained more respect from him than cowering, or just blindly agreeing. Yet perhaps this time she had gone too far.

"Careful, Antoinette," he warned, that deadly glint never leaving his eyes. "You might be an asset to this company, but even you do not know where all the bodies are buried. I, however, am fully aware of each and every skeleton hidden in _your_ closet…push me too far, and I will not hesitate to expose them all."

Antoinette felt a chill go down her spine, and she knew he meant every word. That was the danger of working for someone like Erik Thorn…he did not make idle threats.

"Forgive me, sir, I...I spoke out of turn," she gulped, knowing that she had truly overstepped this time. Apparently this girl had her boss wound tighter than usual, and she was now dealing with a coiled snake, ready to strike. Best to cut her losses and get out while she still had a job…and her head.

"Now, leave me, I must prepare for my meeting with Miss Daaé," he told her with a dismissing wave of his hand. When she headed for the main door he stopped her with a hiss. "Not that way! She thinks I am in here on a conference call," he explained, pointing to the other end of the room. "Use the secret exit."

Antoinette nodded and walked over to the bookshelf, pulling on the hidden lever that rotated it on its axis. Once it was open she released the handle and slipped through before it shut behind her.

.

.

Erik flipped through each page one final time, his keen eyes scanning for anything he might have missed the first dozen times he read it through. It was the perfect proposal…all of it geared in his favor, and designed to achieve just what he desired. _Christine._

He stood up and turned to face the large tinted window behind him, surveying the cityscape as if he owned it all. Well, perhaps not _all_ of it…but certainly a very large portion. Erik had spent many long years building his empire and reputation, battling against all odds to get where he was today. The mask had not made it easy, and he had done many underhanded and unscrupulous things to achieve his goals, yet none of that mattered, as long as he came out on top. He had come a long way from the dirty backstreets of Paris, determined to make this world pay for all the hell it had put him through. Now he had the money and power to achieve any challenge set before him, and those who dared cross him quickly regretted it... _if they even lived that long._ Yes, this city was his playground, and if the next few minutes went as he hoped, he would soon own the most important part.

Thinking back, Erik remembered the first moment he laid eyes on Christine, the memory bringing an unaccustomed smile to his lips. Something about _this_ girl struck him to the core, yet exactly what it was still mystified him...for not once in his past had he ever felt such an instant connection to another human being before. Sure, he had desired women, but never to _this_ degree. There was no denying that she was exquisite. Not in that fake, plastic way so many women seemed to be these days, but instead Christine possessed that elusive inner beauty that any girl would kill for. Her hair had been tousled, her cheeks flushed, and she looked as if she had been on her feet all day…yet still, she was gorgeous.

Erik had originally intended on ordering an alcoholic beverage that first night, just like his other companions - anything to help him get through the mind numbing meeting he had agreed to. Yet for some reason when Christine came to him, water had been the only thing he could think of to say. Perhaps because he suddenly realized he would need all his wits about him, her mere presence having already intoxicated him to distraction. And as the night progressed, Erik found he was almost tempted to dump the icy liquid in his own lap, just to put out the raging fire she had ignited within him.

Morte had been fortunate that night, very fortunate indeed. For after they had concluded their business at the restaurant, Erik had been tempted to circle back to the degenerate's apartment and slit his throat for the offense of laying his greasy hands on Christine. Yet news of the murder could have easily gotten back to her, and it would not have been difficult to imagine who had been responsible. Besides, the last thing Erik wanted was for their relationship to start off on such an ugly note.

He already had plenty of damage control to do for just being seen in the company of those four. None of them were model citizens, with shady backgrounds, and ties to the underworld. Erik had met with them simply out of courtesy, agreeing to hear their proposition, yet having every intention of declining. However, the moment he heard Christine sing, everything changed. Not only had she captured his undivided attention the first time their eyes met, Erik instantly realized that she had the perfect voice, the one he had been searching for all his life. Christine Daaé would be the one to bring _his_ music to life…only her.

Yes, that simple, unexpected meeting had caused him to drastically alter everything… perhaps his entire future. None of this had been part of his intricately designed plan, ultimately taking his life in a mind-boggling direction that even he still found difficult to fathom. Yet, nothing would now alter his ultimate goal…to possess Christine.

Erik had spent the better part of a month trying to figure out how to do just that, coming to the restaurant every evening she was scheduled to work and sitting at her table. He gave a brief chuckle - well, technically it should rightly be called _his_ table, since he had paid for the cost of the blasted piece of wood ten times over with the amount of tips he had left on it. During that time, he had learned a lot about Miss Daaé's character, simply from listening to her general conversations with customers and her workmates. She was indeed both kind and generous, and he quickly came to the conclusion that her personality was just as engaging as her appearance.

By the second week he had graduated to having Christine followed, making sure that those he hired to tail her stayed at a safe distance, never being seen or getting anywhere near her personally. Their reports showed that she lived in a rundown, high-rise apartment building not far from the restaurant, that she had no social life to speak of, and the only place she ever seemed to go was to work, the grocery store, and home. She always took the bus when she traveled anywhere, and much to Erik's relief, they never saw her speaking with any men.

It only took a few covert phone calls to discover that Christine was woefully delinquent on her rent, hence the reason he continued to ply her with generous tips each night. Granted, he knew all the employees split their gratuities, but at least Erik felt he was helping her out in some small way. Her financial situation was rather confusing though, for none of her clothes were expensive brands, she had no vehicle to maintain, and since she never went out in the evenings, where was all her money going?

Thankfully, the answer to this puzzling question had presented itself a few weeks ago, when Erik had arrived at the restaurant promptly at six and took his usual seat at table five. A sly grin spread across Erik's lips as he recalled the incident in great detail…

~XXX~

He had originally been distracted by a few troubling e-mails and his attention was so focused on his laptop, that at first he did not notice that it was not Christine who approached his table. But when he heard the nervous voice of the waitress named Maria giving the customary greeting, his head jerked up, both shock and anger flashing within his amber eyes.

"Stop!" he ordered, holding up his hand in an effort to silence the now trembling girl. "Where is Christine? I am sitting in _her_ section, not yours. I demand to be waited on by her…and only her!"

"I…I'm covering her shift today," Maria stammered, taking a step back as Erik rose from his seat and leaned forward, bracing himself on the table with both hands.

"And why is that, pray tell?" he asked, his voice now full of suspicion.

"She…she's using one of her sick days," Maria squeaked, feeling much like a mouse being eyed by a hungry hawk.

"Christine is ill?" This caused Erik's entire demeanor to change, instantly going from angry to concerned. "What is wrong with her…is it serious? Has she seen a physician for her ailment?"

"It…it's not Christine who's sick," the still petrified waitress continued. "She needed the day off to check her father into one of those state run care facilities. She could no longer take care of him properly at home they said…telling her that he needed more care than she could provide."

 _"Her father?"_ Now this was news to Erik, and he made a mental note to see that those he paid to follow Christine were severely chastised for this oversight. Granted it was by his own orders that they were never to follow her up to her apartment, so it might have been easy to overlook the fact that she had an invalid man living with her. Still, this was information he could have put to use a long time ago, had he known. "She takes care of her father? What is wrong with him that he cannot care for himself?"

"No one knows, but he's been getting steadily worse and she can no longer afford to pay for in-home caregivers, so they're insisting that she put him in one of those facilities." Maria felt bad about handing out so much information on her friend's personal life, but right now she would say just about anything to keep that man from staring daggers at her.

"I see," Erik muttered, quickly closing his laptop and gathering his things. "Thank you for the information, I will no longer be requiring this table for the evening. You are free to offer it to whomever comes in." With that he walked out of the establishment and had not been back since.

~XXX~

That had been the day he discovered the leverage that would allow him to coerce Christine into giving him exactly what he wanted. Of course, she would gain a great deal from the bargain as well, Erik was not _completely_ heartless…no matter what others might say to the contrary. It was more than obvious that Christine needed him; she needed his money, his protection, but most of all she needed someone to care for her. Erik was a master of organization, and knew how to get things done in the most efficient and productive way possible. And out of the goodness of his heart, he would step in and see that Christine's out of control life was brought to heel. In the end, she would thank him for it…he was certain of this.

Still…even with his master plan already set in motion, Erik had the sinking suspicion that she might not immediately see things _his_ way. Christine had a mind of her own, and she was not afraid to use it, often leaving him terribly unsettled and confused. Erik hated not feeling in control. That was why he had gone to such lengths to draw up the contract, and organize things so she couldn't possibly refuse. All Christine had to do was sign her name on the papers. However, unless he ceased this stalling, and called her in, none of his dreams stood a chance of coming true. It was all up to her now.

Taking a deep breath, Erik walked over to the coat-rack in the corner and removed his black Armani suit-jacket from the peg. Slipping it on over his impeccable white dress shirt, he straightened his tie and adjusted the matching pocket handkerchief before reaching down to hit the intercom button - causing a buzzing noise to alert his secretary in the next room.

"Yes, Mr. Thorn?" the girl replied.

"You may send in Miss Daaé," he told her, keeping his voice as steady as he possibly could. "I am ready for her now."

"Very good, sir," Elizabeth said, ending the conversation.

Erik continued to stare out the window, keeping his back to the door until he heard it open and close behind him. He knew Christine was there, for her mere presence always caused a delicious tingle to run throughout his body, and right now it was practically humming. She cleared her throat, causing him to turn, his eyes drinking in the sight of her for the first time in two very long weeks. Oh, she looked divine, so young and fresh, the perfect vision of innocence. Was he truly such a villain to want to be the one to corrupt her?

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Miss Daaé," Erik began, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. He watched as she cautiously walked over and sat down, perching on the very edge as if she might bolt at any moment. He too took a seat in his stately leather chair, leaning back and tenting his fingers before resting them under his chin. "May I offer you something…coffee perhaps? Tea?"

"All I want are answers, Mr. Thorn," Christine shot back, opening her purse and extracting the envelope of money. Slapping it on the desk in front of her, and giving him what she hoped came across as a very stern glare, she continued. "Where do you get off trying to bribe me for my time? Is this your idea of a joke? If so, I'm not laughing."

"I assure you that it was not meant as a joke," Erik replied with an impressed grin. "By nature I am not the humorous sort. I sent you the money for two reasons. One, I knew you needed it. And two, I assumed it would be the only way I could get you to accept my invitation to meet with me."

"And the only reason I came was to give it back!" She then shoved the envelope across the desk. "I'm not some charity case, Mr. Thorn, and I do not appreciate you meddling in my private affairs. How in the world did you manage to find out the exact amount I owed in the first place? Have you been spying on me?" By now, Christine was sure her face had turned several shades of pink over his invasion into her personal matters, and she hoped he thought it was from anger, not embarrassment. "This has to stop, Mr. Thorn. I've put up with your odd behavior thus far out of gratitude for what you did for me that first day. However, if you continue with this, I'll be left with no other recourse than to report you to the authorities." Having said all she had come to say, she stood to leave. "I hope this will conclude any business you think we might have. Good day, sir." Christine turned to go, but Erik's voice halted her intentions.

"Come now, surely you don't mean to leave without knowing the reason I asked you here?" he inquired, unwilling to let her escape so easily. "You came all this way, it would be rude to not at least hear me out. I would like to think your _father_ taught you better manners than that."

"My…my father?" Christine's back grew rigid and her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she slowly turned back around. "How do you know my father?"

"All in good time," Erik told her, leaning forward and locking her in his heated gaze. He gestured to the chair she had just vacated and waited patiently until she slowly sat back down. "First, my proposal."

"What _kind_ of proposal?" she asked out of some sense of morbid curiosity.

"The marriage kind, of course," he revealed, acting as if such a revelation was commonplace.

 _"Excuse me?"_ Christine gasped, pulling back as if she had just been struck. There was no possible way he had just said what she thought she heard. There had to be some mistake. "You...you can't be serious."

"I thought we just established that I am not the joking sort, Miss Daaé," Erik reminded her. "I assure you that I am deadly serious, and I am offering you a sincere proposal of marriage."

Once more Christine just stared at him, her mouth open in shock and her eyes as wide as saucers. A million questions were running around in her mind at that moment, yet she found herself unable to articulate a single one of them. Well, perhaps she was able to ask one…

 _"Why?"_ she was finally able to get out, that one word being all she could muster.

"That is a valid question," Erik nodded, sitting back in his chair as he contemplated the best way to explain the situation. "You see, I am a very powerful man, Miss Daaé, and my business takes up a great deal of my time and energy. I did not get where I am by spending my nights in bars and clubs, searching for the proverbial Mrs. Right. I have neither the time nor the inclination to date like a normal man, and to be honest the whole idea seems rather tedious to me. It has been pointed out, on multiple occasions, that if it were only companionship I desired, that could easily be bought...but I want more. In my thirty-eight years, I have amassed a great deal of wealth, but unfortunately, my reclusive lifestyle has left me with no one to pass it on to. Thus, what I desire, Christine, is a legitimate heir who will one day inherit my fortune. And that is where _you_ come in."

"Me?" she squeaked, her heart leaping into her throat. This just kept getting more and more bizarre, and something told her that Mr. Thorn had not asked her here in order to adopt her!

"Yes, and while I am not exactly the romantic kind, I have found you to be...well, the least objectionable woman I have come across in a great many years." Erik knew he was stretching the truth, for if he was being perfectly honest, Christine was among the _very_ few he had ever given more than a second glance in all his adult life. "I have no illusions of love playing a factor in all this, Miss Daaé, I have learned long ago to be painfully realistic. Yet I find you attractive, intriguing, and to be perfectly honest, a challenge. I feel that we have the potential of being compatible both intellectually and sexually. Many very successful unions have been built on less, but I can also offer you the benefit of financial security as well. You would want for nothing, Christine. I can provide for you in ways you could not possibly imagine...including the care of your invalid father."

Here Erik paused and pulled open a drawer in his desk, taking out a glossy brochure, laying it on the desk in front of her.

"I am fully aware of his condition, and the fact that he is in need of constant care, thus the reason you are so far behind on all your bills. Around the clock nursing is not cheap, and even though you have up to this point taken on the lion's share of the task, you are only one woman...you cannot do it all. Thus I have taken the liberty of moving him to a much better location, one where he will get constant attention, and have the best doctors in the country working on his case." Erik gestured to the pamphlet, causing her shock-filled eyes to glance down at it. "As you will see from reading the brochure, the Leathwood Hospital and Research Facility is on the cutting-edge of medical breakthroughs and alternative therapy. I think once you have had a chance to visit him there, you will agree it is the best place for him. I offer you all this in exchange for your acceptance to my proposal of marriage, and your willingness to provide me with an heir."

There, Erik had said his piece, and done it quite eloquently too, or so he believed. He had given her all the reasons she would need to say yes, to happily sign the contract and begin her brand new life of luxury. And yet, as he watched Christine reach out a trembling hand and pick up the pamphlet for Leathwood, he got the sinking feeling she was far from pleased.

Christine stared at the photo on the front of the brochure, showing the pristine building, the immaculately groomed lawns, and the shady oak trees, all serving as a lovely backdrop for the smiling family that was featured in the center. _Her father was now residing here?_ Had this madman truly relocated her father without even asking her consent? Her mind could simply not process it all, and she was left speechless for almost a full minute. Yet when her anger caught up with her disbelief...so did her voice.

"HOW DARE YOU!" she screamed, standing up as she glared daggers at the man in front of her. "You had no right to even go near my father, let alone move him to some...some place I know nothing about! I could have you thrown in prison for this...no, not prison... _an insane asylum!_ For that is truly where you belong! As for your proposal, I can't even begin to explain how offended and outraged I am that you could imagine I would ever agree to such a thing. _Marry you?_ I would rather live on the streets in a cardboard box than share one night under the same roof as you!"

By now Christine was out of her chair and storming towards the door, completely abandoning her idea of charging him for the time he had kept her waiting. She wouldn't take a penny of his money now even if her life depended on it! Christine was vaguely aware that he too had risen, but thankfully he made no move to stop her or give chase. Yanking open the door and stepping through, she turned around to glare at him one last time.

"I don't know what kind of people you're used to dealing with, Mr. Thorn, but let me assure you this...you have met your match in Christine Daaé! I would suggest you stay the hell away from me from this moment on, for if I ever see your...your masked face again, you will be the sorriest man to walk this earth, I guarantee it!" And with that, she slammed the door shut, thoroughly enjoying the look of pure shock in Erik Thorn's eyes.

Still shaking from uncontrollable anger, Christine blew past the receptionist and the fashionably dressed woman standing next to her, taking note of their gaping mouths and looks of fearful astonishment. Christine hoped they had both received an earful, for she swore that she would never be setting foot in this building again in order to repeat it. And as she punched the elevator button and stepped inside the metal box, more than eager to put as much distance as possible between herself and that deranged lunatic, she couldn't help but give a satisfied little smile. _She had certainly told him!_

 _._

 _._

Antoinette watched Miss Daaé leave the office in a full on rage, shouting at Erik in a way that would have brought instant death to anyone else. From what she had seen through the doorway, before it had been slammed shut, Erik was frozen in a state of shock and unimaginable fury.

"What was that all about?" the receptionist whispered, cringing when they heard the first piece of furniture hit the wall inside Erik's office, splintering into a broken mess.

"I don't think we want to know, Elizabeth," she answered in a shaky voice, as they next heard the large oak desk being overturned. _Did that girl have any idea what she had just done?_ "But I can tell you this…you couldn't pay me enough money to set foot in that office right now!"

* * *

 **Christine! Just look at what you've done! You've gone and upset Erik... GOOD FOR YOU! ha ha.**

 **Soooooo...now you know what Erik wants and how he plans to get it. Too bad Christine didn't see things HIS way, right?**

 **How did you like my version of Madame Giry?**

 **And did you think that Erik might have gone just a teenie bit too far in his demands? I wonder how in the world this will all work out? Tune in next time and see!**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

Guest: Well, I do hope it lives up to it's promises. ha ha. It is a lot of fun to write and Erik is just a kick in the pants. And sometimes you WANT to kick him in the pants. ha ha. Thanks for the review.


	3. Chapter 3

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 **Surprise!**

 **See what your kind reviews got you? Another Chapter!  
**

 ** _Warning:_ I am not a doctor, and neither do I play one on TV. So DO NOT believe ALL the medical stuff you read in this chapter, not ALL of it is accurate.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 3**

 **~X~**

* * *

Christine was still seething by the time she flagged down a taxi and gave the driver the address to Leathwood Hospital, reading it off the crumpled brochure she still clutched in her hand. Glancing in her purse, she only hoped she had enough cash to get her there and back. Christine was unsure about how she would arrange to have her father transported back to the facility she had originally placed him in, but she figured one disaster at a time was all she could handle right now. In fact, her mind was still reeling from being forced to deal with that maniacal madman, Erik Thorn!

 _The nerve of him!_ How dare he act so presumptuously, going so far as to move her father without even talking to her about it? Yet what shocked her more was that they actually allowed him to do so! Whatever happened to patient confidentiality? Had they never heard of HIPAA regulations? Someone would be hearing about this, that was for darn sure!

Still, as angry as she was about that, Christine was still dumbfounded by his shocking proposal of marriage! The man had to be insane, certifiably and clinically insane! He wanted a wife…as well as a child...and expected _her_ to provide both of these, simply because he was rich enough to believe he could buy her cooperation? Well, she had always believed Mr. Thorn was half a bubble off plumb, but that was going too far!

Although…she had to admit that the first time they met, there had been some odd sort of spark between them, and the fact that he had come to her rescue had been quite gallant, if not a bit frightening. Perhaps that was what had attracted her to him at first? That slight thrill of danger one might enjoy toying with, but would never invite into their lives willingly. There was no way Christine had the time, or mental capacity, to deal with an obsessive man like him! He thoroughly exhausted her with his constant attention, his mere presence putting her on edge. She had tried to ignore him, yet each night he would come to the restaurant - doing nothing worthy of being thrown out - yet irritating her nonetheless. He would watch her, following her every move with those haunting eyes, and continuously leave her an inappropriately sized tip. And even though he never spoke out of turn, or dared to offer any unwanted physical contact, each night she still went home feeling almost… _violated?_

So what was it about that man that affected her so?

Christine gave a huff of frustration and laid her head back against the vinyl seat of the cab…she could no longer think about this, she just couldn't. If she did, she would certainly go mad. How had her life become so complicated? Yet she knew exactly how, and a tear slipped down her cheek as she thought back over the previous year.

Truly the year from hell.

It had all begun quite innocently, with her usually robust and healthy father, Charles Daaé, catching the flu. Yet he never seemed to fully recover from it and soon other alarming symptoms began to present themselves. His hands and feet began to turn numb, making it impossible for him to continue his job as lead violinist at the Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center, a position he had held for the past ten years. Unfortunately, with the loss of his employment, there went his medical insurance as well, and over the next several months they were forced to seek assistance from the free clinics in the area. However, as grateful as they were for the affordable visits, the doctors there were more accustomed to dealing with flesh wounds from guns or knives, than mysterious ailments that slowly robbed a man of his mobility and dexterity.

By the end of six months, with no cure in sight and the medical bills piling up, they were forced to give up their nice two bedroom townhouse on the East Side. After selling a good deal of their furniture, they moved into their current one bedroom apartment, leaving Christine to sleep on the pullout couch in the living room. With no income to speak of, Christine was forced to drop out of music school and get a job to pay for food, rent, and utilities. This tore her father up inside, making him feel like a failure as a parent, for he had always encouraged Christine to pursue her love of singing. It had been a difficult decision, seeing how she was so close to finishing school and receiving her degree in the musical arts. But since her father had taken care of her since she was little, shouldering the responsibility all alone after her mother had died, Christine knew the least she could do was return the favor.

Unfortunately, her father's health continued to deteriorate and soon he was bound to a wheelchair with such limited mobility in his arms and hands that Christine no longer felt safe leaving him home alone. She was forced to seek government assistance, and a social worker was assigned to her father's case. They did what they could to help out, finding people willing to come in and offer in-home health care during the day. However, they would not pay for more than that, leaving Christine to fill in the rest of the hours herself. Thankfully, Joe, the tenant across the hallway, was a retired army nurse who was a stay at home dad, and for a small fee, was willing to come over each evening and assist in getting her father ready for bed. Christine would do anything for her papa, yet in an effort to help him retain his dignity, she was grateful that Joe was there to take care of the more personal aspects of his nightly ablutions.

Little by little Christine was forced to watch her father slipping further and further away from her, until even his slurred speech was no longer understandable and he stopped talking altogether. One day she had a father, and the next it was as if he had disappeared, leaving only a shell of the man she knew and loved. He was still able to eat, if he was spoon fed, and he could drink out of a straw, but every other form of movement had been stolen from him.

For the past three months, all he did was sit and stare out the window or at the television, not showing any signs of understanding what was going on around him. Christine had tried to communicate with him, begging him to squeeze her hand or blink his eyes if he understood her questions...yet there was no reaction.

None of the doctors they could afford were able to explain it, theorizing that perhaps he had been struck with tuberculosis of the brain, or something called cryptococcal meningitis, yet the treatments for those had no effect. When all possible solutions had been exhausted, they finally told Christine to take her father home, keep him as comfortable as possible, and wait for him to die. That was the night that Christine died a little bit herself, privately breaking down in the bathroom and sobbing until she thought her heart would break. She felt so terribly alone, so lost and afraid without her strong and brave papa there to guide her. But Christine refused to give up on him...though she had no idea what to do.

When his condition had recently worsened to his current almost catatonic state, the case worker began to insist that Charles be moved to a state-run care facility. At first Christine balked at the idea, hating the thought of putting him in a place like that…but after he suffered a frightening seizure, Christine knew she had no choice.

It took a lot of convincing, and there were many tears shed, but in the end she allowed him to be moved to what Christine now considered the most depressing place in the world. The care facility had long, dimly lit hallways that went on and on with overcrowded rooms lining both sides. It had dreary stark-white walls, smelled of neglect, and there never appeared to be enough staff members to help care for all the patients. While she knew in her heart that she could no longer care for her father alone, and that this place was the only one she could afford, Christine still hated it and cried herself to sleep each night thinking she had failed him.

In an attempt to compensate, Christine spent as much time with her father as she possibly could, doing anything needed to pick up the obvious slack in his care. In the two weeks since he had been sent to the care facility, she would rise each morning before dawn, take two buses, and walk six blocks to make it there before his scheduled breakfast time. After feeding him and making sure his other needs had been cared for by a male staff member, she would then offer to push him around the hallways in a wheelchair, doing anything she could to get him up and out of that depressing room. They didn't have any private ones available, even if she could afford it, so he was forced to share with two other men. Each bed was separated by only a thin curtain, so there was never any privacy and often she had to practically yell over the blaring televisions just to be heard. After shouldering the responsibility of feeding him his lunch, she would kiss him goodbye and hurry off to work, arriving home late each night to fall into bed and try to get some sleep, before rising the next morning to do it all over again.

Christine was now so exhausted, both mentally and physically, that when the letter from Mr. Thorn had arrived, it had been the final straw that broke her will. The last thing she could afford was to take time off from work or away from her father, but she knew she had to put an end to his obsessive behavior if she was ever going to concentrate on the more important aspects of her depressing life. She was so sick and tired of feeling helpless, that this one bit of rebellion had almost been cathartic. Telling off Erik Thorn had given her back a measure of power, and she intended to use every ounce of it on helping her father. Christine would _not_ give up!

"Here we are," the cabbie said, pulling over to the curb and shutting off the meter. "That will be fifty-seven fifty, miss."

Christine sat up and wiped the stray tears from her eyes, looking around at the breathtaking view. She had no idea such a place even existed just outside the city. It looked more like a resort than a hospital, and she stared down at the brochure in her hand, thinking it did not do the place justice. After paying the driver, she stepped out and walked towards the large glass doors leading to the palatial lobby. There were beautiful plants and flowers everywhere she looked, massive paintings, and even a few tapestries hanging on the walls. Soothing music was being piped in, the place smelled like freshly laundered sheets, and an all-around air of tranquility could be felt from the moment she stepped inside. The place was simply amazing!

"May I help you, miss?" a kindly woman asked from behind the counter.

"Yes...I hope you can," Christine mumbled, still staring at all the magnificence around her. "My name is Christine Daaé and I'm looking for my father, a Mr..."

"Charles Daaé?" the woman finished for her, giving Christine a warm smile. "Yes, we've been expecting you. Your father has been assigned room twelve, but Dr. Mills gave word that he'd like to speak with you the moment you arrived. Give me just a second and I'll let him know you're here." She then picked up the phone and hit a few buttons, waiting a moment before speaking again. "Yes, this is Angela from the front desk, Miss Daaé has just arrived….Very good, thank you," she finished, hanging up the phone. "He'll be right out, but in the meantime I need to get you set up with your keycard for future visits."

"Dr. Mills...a keycard?" Christine repeated, still a bit shocked and confused by all this.

"Yes, all our doors are electronic, so you'll need one in order to come and go after normal visiting hours," Angela explained as she worked behind the counter and soon produced a small plastic card on a lanyard, handing it to Christine along with an official looking paper to sign. "I just need your signature here stating that you received the card, and then you're all set."

"So, you require me to sign for this card," Christine began, her tone turning a bit abrasive, "but apparently my consent was not needed in order to have my father uprooted from where he was and transferred to this facility?"

"What? No, of course not! All the required paperwork was handled by your fiancé," the woman clarified, looking a bit perplexed. "He explained to us that you were unavoidably detained last night when your father arrived, but that you would definitely be here today to check on him."

"Fiancé? What are you talking about?" Christine was not liking the sound of this at all.

"Mr. Thorn...he said that you were engaged to be married," the woman continued, now looking quite alarmed. "Oh! I'm so sorry, have I somehow let the cat out of the bag? From the way he spoke, I assumed that he had already proposed!"

"Oh, he proposed all right," Christine hissed, her eyes narrowing into angry slits as she thought of her earlier meeting with that man. "But that still does not explain how he was able to relocate my father without my written permission! Do you people not have rules about this kind of thing?"

"Of course we do...very strict ones, in fact," she stammered, quickly typing on her keyboard before spinning the computer monitor around so that Christine could see what was displayed on it. "Isn't this your signature on the consent form?"

Christine leaned forward, staring at the digital copy of the document in front of her, unable to speak as she noted the handwriting was an exact duplicate of her own. If she didn't know for a fact that she had never even seen this consent form before...the signature would have fooled even her!

 _Exactly who was this Erik Thorn?_

She was saved from having to answer that mind-boggling question by the approach of a man in a white lab coat. He was probably in his mid-fifties, had dark hair that was greying at the temples, but he had kind eyes and a comforting smile.

"Miss Daaé?" he greeted, extending his hand in a friendly gesture. Still in a state of shock, Christine accepted it and gave it a weak shake. "I'm Dr. Mills, and it's a pleasure to meet you. Your fiancé, Mr. Thorn, said that you would be here first thing this morning, and I have a lot to fill you in on. Would you like to accompany me to my office so we can speak in private?"

"I...I just want to see my father," Christine responded, feeling very much like Alice after having fallen down the rabbit hole.

"Of course you do, but he's out for his morning stroll right now, so how about we speak first and then I'll take you to him?" Dr. Mills offered.

"Morning stroll?" Christine questioned. Her father couldn't even stand, let alone walk.

"In his wheelchair of course," Mills chuckled, understanding her confusion. "His nurse, Susan, just took him out by the duck pond, if you follow me, I can show you."

Christine was only too willing to go with the man if it meant seeing her father, but Angela, the receptionist, stopped her.

"Wait, Miss Daaé...you need to sign for your keycard," she insisted, holding up a pen and pushing the paper across the counter. "Regulations, you know."

This time Christine blushed a little in shame, realizing that these people had obviously been manipulated by Erik Thorn. That man had tricked them all, forging documents and transporting people on _his_ say-so alone! Once she had written her name at the bottom of the paper, Angela handed her the card, wishing her a pleasant visit.

"This way, Miss Daaé," the doctor said, now leading her down the hall and around the corner, until they came to a huge plate-glass window. "There he is," Dr. Mills pointed, picking out the figure of a woman pushing a wheelchair around a beautiful pond that was littered with colorful ducks and surrounded by a smooth pathway.

The sight almost brought tears to Christine's eyes, seeing her father out and about and not confined to that depressing little room at the care center. She could not remember the last time he had been out in the fresh air like this, for in the city there was no place to take him except up and down those dreary hallways. She watched as the nurse parked his wheelchair and bent down to pick a flower off one of the bushes. She then knelt down in front of him and held the flower up to his nose for a moment, before tucking it in his shirt pocket. It appeared to Christine that the staff members here truly cared about their patients, not simply going through the motions of getting things done as quickly as possible so they could go home. Oh, if only she had the means to afford to keep him in a place like this.

"They should be back inside pretty soon, in the meantime, would you care to join me in my office so we can discuss your father's case?" Dr. Mills asked, gesturing further down the hallway.

Christine hated to leave such a lovely sight, but the offer to learn more about what ailment had stricken her father lured her away from the window. As she was escorted to the man's office she noted that everyone she saw had a smile on their face, even the one or two patients she saw along the way. A few of the doors were open, and she was able to see that the rooms looked like small apartments, with homey furniture, curtains on the windows, and each one appeared to be occupied by only one person. A far cry from the overcrowded place she had been forced to put her beloved father two weeks ago.

Once they arrived at the office, Dr. Mills pulled out a chair and offered her a cup of coffee. Christine gladly took it, hoping it might steady her already frayed nerves. Sipping it slowly, she watched as he sat down and opened his iPad.

"I realize your father only arrived last night, but I took the liberty of running a few preliminary tests," he explained, swiping across his tablet and then turning it toward her so she could see the results. Nothing written there made any sense to her, but it all looked terribly official and important. "From what I discovered, I believe that your father has been misdiagnosed, and he is suffering from a mutated strain of CIDP, or chronic inflammatory demyelinating polyneuropathy." When Christine just stared wide eyed at him in a confused manner, he continued on, doing his best to explain. "Most likely, this all began from some virus your father contracted, a cold or flu perhaps?"

"Yes! Almost a year ago he caught a flu bug going around at the Met and was out sick for several days," Christine confirmed, recalling how it all started so innocently.

"I'm sure that's what originally triggered it then," Mills nodded. "Apparently his immune cells, which normally protect the body from foreign infections, like the flu, incorrectly began attacking the nerves in his body instead. Eating away at the protective shield around them until they were left open and exposed. As a result, the affected nerves ceased to respond because the electronic signals from his brain were being interrupted. The symptoms would have steadily progressed from there, causing numbness of the hands and feet, tingling pain, progressive muscle weakness, loss of reflexes, and all normal sensations. Effectively paralyzing the patient, robbing him of his motor functions, and ability to speak. Am I correct in assuming your father's health deteriorated in a similar pattern?"

"Yes!" Christine was stunned, after a year of searching for answers from every doctor they could afford, this one finally seemed to know what he was talking about. "That's _exactly_ what happened!"

"And I'm also certain the other physicians misdiagnosed him with forms of tuberculosis, meningitis, and may have even suggested that he had a stroke. Am I right?" He asked this with a heavy sigh, as if he had heard it all many times before.

"Yes, they said all those things!" Christine gasped, sitting up straight in her chair, as if she was now hanging on the doctor's every word. "Then, when they had tried everything they said they could think of, they told me there was no hope…and that I should prepare myself for his inevitable death."

"I'm very sorry that you had to go through all this, Miss Daaé," he told her sympathetically. "CIDP mimics a lot of the same symptoms from those other ailments, thus it is not the first thing doctors consider. It is a common oversight, and one truly can't blame the overworked physicians for not suspecting what it could have been. Especially when so few are up to date on the latest strains of this almost unknown condition. However, here at Leathwood, CIDP is one of the diseases we are concentrating much of our research on, thanks to generous grants from places like Phantom Industries. Without their donations, we could not continue to fund such studies, or the medical advances we are making every day. You are very fortunate indeed that your fiancé, Mr. Thorn, has sat in on a few of our sponsor's meetings and was familiar enough with the symptoms of CIDP to recognize that this was most likely what your father was suffering from."

"Mr. Thorn? _He_...he diagnosed my father's condition?" Christine almost dropped her cup of coffee at hearing this.

"Well, he did _strongly_ suggest we test him for it, yes, but it was the lab results that confirmed his suspicions, as well as my own," the doctor chuckled, reaching out and taking the mug of steaming liquid from out of her now shaking hands and putting it on the desk between them...just to be safe. And if he noticed that Christine had referred to the man she was supposed to be engaged to in such a formal manner, he didn't say a thing. "In any case, that does seem to be what your father is suffering from, and now that we have properly diagnosed the problem, it is now only a matter of seeing that he gets the needed medicine, treatment, and rehabilitation."

Christine could not believe her ears, and without any warning she buried her face in her hands and began to sob out of pure relief. Dr. Mills quickly came around the desk, grabbing a box of tissues and holding it out to her as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"There, there, let it all out," he encouraged, having been in this position many times during his professional career. "I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but I think we've caught things in time, and your father stands a good chance of making a substantial, if not full, recovery. Every case is different of course, but I have seen those in worse shape than he regain their speech and at least a portion of their mobility. Thus I have very high hopes for your father as well."

"You...you mean...I could get him back?" This was almost too good to be true. For no matter how much Christine refused to believe the doctors when they said there was no cure, even _she_ had begun to lose hope of ever hearing her father's voice again, not to mention seeing him look at her with any hint of recognition. Yet now, Dr. Mills was offering her a miracle? Could she believe him?

"I will not lie to you, it will take some time and a great deal of effort on his part," Mills informed her, reaching over and pulling up another chair so he could sit beside her. "Yet, your father has held on this long, telling me that he's a fighter…that he _wants_ to get better. The neurological tests I ran this morning proved that his brain functions are still intact, and that he _is_ fully aware of what is going on around him. He's simply unable to articulate his thoughts or intentions in any manner that we can perceive. Basically, he is trapped in his own body, seeing and hearing everything, yet not able to interact in any way with those around him. I've had many former patients describe the sensation as being like a ghost...knowing they are there, but no one seems to be able to see or hear them."

"My father...he can hear me? He knows what's happening to him?" This idea left her both elated and horrified at the same time. Oh, what her poor papa must have gone through, feeling trapped, like a person in a soundproof bubble, screaming out his thoughts, but no one could hear.

"All the tests I've run so far show that he can see, hear, and more than likely understand everything...he simply lacks the motor functions to respond," the doctor assured her.

"So what now?" Christine begged, grabbing his hand in desperation. "What can be done for him...how do we get him back?"

"The first thing is to build up your father's immune system, and prepare him for the antiserum that will counteract the virus that is continuing to destroy the coating around your father's nerves. This shouldn't take more than a few days, and then we can begin administering the drug after that. Once the damage has been halted, we can introduce antibodies that will help to repair the injury, and then begin therapy to reconnect the signals from his newly protected nerves to the muscles they control. It will take months, possibly years, before he is fully healed...yet, as I said, your father appears to be a fighter. Are you willing to fight with him?"

"Anything, Doctor! I'll do _anything_ at all to help!" Christine assured him, knowing that she meant every word. "I...I'm not sure how I can go about paying you though...I mean I _will_ find a way...I swear it, but you might have to give me some time."

"You needn't worry about money, Miss Daaé, financial responsibility has already been taken care of by your fiancé," he assured her, patting her hand. "Mr. Thorn promised to pay for all your father's expenses when he checked him in last night, telling me it would be his wedding gift to you." He then got a broad smile on his face. "And might I offer you two my congratulations on your upcoming marriage?"

"Thank…you?" she stammered, not exactly sure how to respond. _A wedding gift?_ Was that the price she would have to pay to see her father remain here at Leathwood and received the medical attention he so desperately needed?

"And I don't mind telling you that you're very fortunate, Miss Daaé," Mills continued, not taking note of her shock and dismay. "The treatments your father will need are not cheap, the medicines alone will run into the hundreds of thousands. It truly sickens me when those without the proper insurance are often denied such cures, simply due to lack of money. Yet, sadly, even we are often held hostage to the almighty dollar. Thankfully, your future husband is willing, and more than able, to foot the bill for your father's recovery. You're one lucky woman."

"Yes...very lucky indeed," she muttered, turning her head aside so that he would not see the look of utter despair that crossed her face.

"So, how about I take you to see your father, and then I'll get the papers drawn up for you to sign so we can begin his treatment?" Mills offered, standing up and assisting her to her feet. "The faster we begin, the sooner he'll be back to his old self."

.

.

It didn't take long to walk to her father's room, where Christine found him sitting in his wheelchair, staring out at the magnificent scenery with a warm blanket tucked snugly around his legs. He had a safety belt around his torso, to hold him securely in the chair for fear he might fall out, but his limp hands resting in his lap and the blank look on his face gave no indication that he even knew where he was. Yet, Dr. Mills had given Christine hope that this was not true...that her beloved father was still in there, able to understand everything that was happening to him. And it was _that_ promise she grabbed onto with both hands, and refused to let go.

Just then, the woman who had been seen pushing his chair out by the pond entered the room, holding a vase with the flower she had picked for him tucked inside.

"Hello. You must be Charles' daughter, Christine?" She quickly set the flower down on the windowsill and extended her hand in welcome. She appeared to be middle age, with fiery red hair, laughing eyes, and radiated such a capable attitude that it immediately put Christine at ease. "My name is Susan Kimble, and I'm assigned to take care of your father during the day. Jerome will be seeing to him at night, but his shift doesn't start till five o'clock, so you'll have to meet him another time."

"It's nice to meet you, Susan," Christine said, doing her best to remain focused while still attempting to process all that she had just been told.

"Susan has been with us for five years now, and is one of our best nurses," Dr. Mills told Christine, making the pretty redhead blush. "Your father couldn't be in better hands than hers."

"I have no doubt," Christine nodded, giving Susan a grateful smile.

"Why don't you spend some time with your father and then meet me back in my office to sign those papers, Miss Daaé?" he told her, gesturing for Susan to exit as well, in order to give them some privacy.

"Please, after all you have done, I think it is only fitting that you call me Christine," she told him, giving him an appreciative smile, before walking over to where her father sat. "And yes, I'll be there soon...thank you so very much, doctor."

"You are most welcome, Christine," he returned. "You take your time." Then shutting the door behind him, he left them alone.

Christine gazed down at her father's blank face for a long time, doing her best to imagine what he must be going through. Tears filled her eyes once more as she thought of the frustration, the anger, and the utter despair he must have felt as his life had been robbed from him, chaining him up in his own body against his will. Kneeling down she raised her hand to his face and turned it so that his eyes were looking directly at her, searching for any glimmer of recognition.

"They say you can hear me, Papa," she whispered, the tears now streaming down her cheeks uncontrollably. "They tell me you're still in there, and that they know how to get you out. It sounds almost too good to be true, but I want to believe them, Papa, I so desperately want to believe them! Dr. Mills seems to know what he is talking about, and says he's seen others in worse condition than you make a full recovery. But you have to do your part too; you have to fight to come back. Please come back to me, Papa…I need you with me so badly!"

At this, Christine began to sob again, laying her head on her father's knee as she let her tears dampen the soft blanket covering his legs. Oh, if only he was able to give her advice on what she should do, to impart his words of wisdom at this crucial moment in her life. Yet, if her papa _were_ here to guide her, Christine would not currently be faced with this overwhelming decision in the first place. This was a catch twenty-two if she ever saw one! Perhaps once her father recovered, he could aid her in finding a way out of the deal she was being forced to make. And even if he couldn't, if she was ultimately trapped in the nightmare Erik Thorn proposed, at least she would have her father to lean on for support and understanding. Yet without agreeing to marry Erik, she knew she had no chance at all of ever getting him back. She would have to say yes.

Reaching over she took her papa's limp hand and placed it on her head, running it back and forth, just like he used to do whenever she was upset or afraid. Christine knew it was she alone creating the motions, but it made her feel better nonetheless. This was what she missed, this was what she needed...and by God, _this_ was what she was going to get back, no matter what it took! Sitting up, she wiped her eyes and gave him her bravest smile.

"You're going to get better, Papa, and I know that this is just the place for you to do it! Here they have the knowledge and people willing to see that it happens, and I swear that I'll do everything within my power to make sure you stay right here, until you are well enough to walk out on your own two feet!" Standing up, she leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Now, don't give Susan or the other nurses too much trouble, you hear? I have some arrangements I need to make, but I'll be back to see you very soon...I promise!"

.

.

As Christine sat in the taxi heading back to the city, she read over the papers Dr. Mills had given her, describing the treatment and care her father would receive at Leathwood. It all sounded so wonderful, giving her a sense of hope like never before. It was as if her whole life had suddenly been turned upside down...and all because of _Erik Thorn._

Christine was no fool; she knew exactly what the conditions her father being able to remain at Leathwood hinged upon. Mr. Thorn had made it quite clear what he wanted from her, and while at the time his proposition sounded completely insane...suddenly she was willing to give it serious consideration. And while the idea of being taken care of and to no longer have to worry about finances, had been tempting, Christine would never trade her freedom for money! Yet, if there was even the smallest chance of getting her father back, to see him once more healthy and happy…well, _that_ was something she was willing to sacrifice anything for!

Christine had to admit that the idea still made her skin crawl, being forced to marry someone she hardly knew, to willingly offer herself - _and her body_ \- to fulfill the bargain. For if she was required to produce an heir for this man, the marriage would have to be consummated. Could she do that?

Erik was a strange one, there was no doubt about that, but she had never found him exactly repulsive either…even if he chose to hide his identity from her. He was certainly wealthy enough to be called eccentric…and wearing a mask definitely qualified as a bit odd. Still, when she was around him, or when he looked at her with those haunting amber eyes, has she not often felt something akin to… _desire?_ Could she somehow be attracted to him, even if she knew no more about him than his name and the fact that he was probably one of the most powerful men in the city? And yet…there _was_ something about Erik Thorn, something that seemed to call to her - alerting her to his presence the moment he would walk into the restaurant, even if she was back in the kitchen where she could not see him.

 _No!_ That was preposterous, she was a level-headed girl and did not believe in silly things like cosmic connections or soulmates. Erik was simply a man, an attractive one who exuded sex appeal to be sure, but a man nonetheless. The fact that he had enough money to buy the Brooklyn Bridge a dozen times over, only put him in a position to reason that he could buy whatever he wanted…even her.

But if it meant giving her father a chance to recover and live a normal life again… _then_ _Christine was for sale!_

* * *

 **Well, now you know what Christine is willing to do for her dad. She wouldn't say yes for her...but for the hope of seeing him walk and talk again, she will do anything.**

 **Looks like Erik might get what he wants after all.**

 **I hope no one thinks any less of Christine for deciding to go through with it. She is being very self-sacrificing. But now the big question is...will Erik take her back? *rolls eyes* Oh, who are we kidding, ha ha.**

 **Now I made up quite a bit of the medical stuff, as well as many of Charles' symptoms, but CIDP IS a real thing, in fact, someone I know contracted it in a very similar way, from a flu virus. His own immune system got confused and ate away at the shields covering his nerves until he couldn't walk and could barely use his hands. Thankfully, they DID diagnose him correctly right away, but he still had to spend three months in the hospital, went through tons of therapy, and it took him nearly a year before he felt somewhat normal again. Not sure if left undiagnosed it would cause the kind of complete paralysis that Charles Daae has, but I did read an article called "Trapped In His Body For 12 Years, A Man Breaks Free" about a boy who was able to see and hear, but he couldn't move, talk, or let anyone know he understood everything. Google that story, it will both inspire you and break your heart! But again...none of this is meant to diagnose an illness or create awareness for any medicine or procedure... my story is written for entertainment purposes only! _  
_**

 **All right, one more chapter will be posted tomorrow (Wednesday), and then I will start on my two chapters a week posting schedule (Fridays and Tuesdays - my days off). Thanks!**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **I want to thank all my GUEST reviewers...however, to make it clear which one I'm responding to, it would help if you name yourself...something like ABC...or 123...or Z...anything so I can recognize you if you review again, or you can identify which response I make is for you. OK?**

 **Emmy6:** Thanks for the review! Yes, Erik does come across as an arrogant dude right now, but give him time, you know he will soften up and show his true feelings...My Erik's always do. ha ha. Oh, the reason she added one more thing as she exited the room was to let Antoinette and Elizabeth hear what she said. I wanted them to get a show too. ha ha. I think after reading this chapter, you already know what will happen to Daddy Daae. OH, and did you know that you have your ability to receive PMs function turned off? That's why I had to respond to you here. Thanks!

 **Guest:** OH yes, I've seen that show. The really funny thing is I chose this name for him before I went over to the Hobbit Fandom and wrote there for over a year...and since I had to type the name Thorin like a zillion times, do you have any idea how hard it is for me to leave that i out of his last name now? ha ha. And didn't the actor who played Thorin in the Hobbit also play Mr. Thornton in North and South? Coincidence? I don't think so! ha ha. Yah, I wasn't going to make things TOO easy for Erik, and our brave little Christine would never have given in to his outrageous demands if not because of her love for her father. Thanks for the kind review!

 **Littlered2606:** I just really want you all to get to the good stuff, and the first four chapters are basically setting up the story line. Oh, and did I mention I have the patience of a gnat? I am really surprised so many had mentioned a 50 Shades feel to the story...but since I've never read it before, how would I know? ha ha. I'm glad, as you say, it moved away from feeling that way on chapter 2. And I hope it never goes that way again, ha ha. Thanks for your very kind review. Also, you seem to have your ability to receive PMs function turned off. Is that on purpose, or accident? Just checking.

 **Guest:** Thanks for the compliment, I'm glad you like how my characters are written. And I sure hope you like where I went with this chapter! Thanks.

 **Chloe:** And I can't wait FOR you to read more! Thanks

 **Guest:** I am tickled that you find it funny...I hate stories that are sooooo serious. I like laughs!

 **Guest:** Oh yes, Erik did get taken down a peg or two by Christine! She has some backbone! No...Erik is not a quitter, he will think of something...or maybe he won't have to. ha ha. Glad it was all it promised to be. Thanks.


	4. Chapter 4

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 **Well, here it is...will Erik get his way?**

 **Read on and find out!**

 **Guest S:** I see you reviewing, but because you are a guest, I can't respond to you directly. This is the only way I can. I totally got your humor, didn't think you were serious at all, and loved your comment. But HOME WORK needs to be done! But for continuing to read AND review, here is a gift for you. *Erik hands you Broadway Tickets...front row!* So even if I can't respond to your reviews, please know I am getting them and loving them. Also, please let me know that you saw this, I don't want your words to go unanswered. FP33

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 **.**

 **Chapter 4**

 **~X~**

* * *

The elevator ride up to Erik Thorn's office was a bit less triumphant than her previous exit. In the past, Christine had been forced to eat her share of humble pie, but she was almost certain she would choke on _this_ particular helping. She felt torn, completely conflicted, and so utterly confused by the decision she was about to make. Yet, the one thing that was crystal clear was the love she felt for her father. Christine knew she would do anything for him… _anything!_

When the elevator doors opened, she just stood there, rooted in her spot staring at the frosted glass doors across the hallway. Could she do this? Did she even want to? When a bell chimed, signaling that the doors were about to close, Christine propelled herself forward, squeezing out before they could slam shut on her. Now standing in front of her ultimate destiny, she took a deep breath, determined to press on.

If she had not been so nervous herself, Christine might have laughed out loud at the shocked expression the receptionist gave her as she walked in. Recalling some of the things she had shouted at Erik in this woman's presence, Christine didn't blame her for thinking her crazy for returning to the scene of the crime. This thought made her even more anxious, for if this was the receptionist's reaction… _what would Erik's be like?_ Had she already blown any chance that he would wish to help her father…or even want her as a wife any longer? She only prayed that she could somehow gain his forgiveness and make him reconsider. It was ludicrous to think that she was now going to _beg_ him for the opportunity which she had just claimed he was insane for offering.

But things had changed…and the stakes were far too high for her to risk losing now.

"Umm…hello again," Christine began, reaching up to smooth down her hair in a nervous gesture. "I…I was wondering if I might be allowed to see Mr. Thorn…please?"

The woman continued to stare at her as if she couldn't believe her eyes.

"You want to speak with Mr. Thorn?" the secretary asked, sounding as stunned as she looked.

"If he'll allow me to…I…I would like to apologize to him for what I said," she added, hoping this might buy her some good will.

"Uhh…well…let me see," the receptionist reached out and pressed a button on her phone, waiting for the usual response from the other end. Yet nothing happened. She pressed it again, but still received no reply. A nervous expression crossed her face as she stood up, looking at the dark wooden door that led to Erik's office. Yet she never made a move towards it, instead she came around the other side of her desk and headed in the opposite direction. "If you will have a seat…I'll see what I can do," she told Christine, hurrying down the hallway and knocking at another door entirely.

.

.

Antoinette was busy at her desk, looking over a stack of legal documents concerning a company Erik was considering taking over, when she heard the rapping at her door.

"Come in," she called, not bothering to glance up from the papers.

"Antoinette?" came Elizabeth's nervous voice, as she slipped inside the room and shut the door behind her. "I…I need your help."

"What's wrong? Has the wounded grizzly bear finally emerged?" she asked, at last looking up. "Just stay out of his way until this whole thing blows over."

"No…I haven't heard a sound from his office in hours," Elizabeth informed her. "But…but _she's_ back!"

"She? She who?" Antoinette asked, seconds before realization dawned on her. "Miss Daaé? She came back? Is she insane?"

"I don't know, but she says she wants to see him…to apologize!" the secretary almost squeaked. "I tried to page him, but I think the intercom is broken. What should I do…I can't go in there!"

"And you expect _me_ to enter the lion's den?" Antoinette asked, thinking she did _not_ get paid enough for that!

"Please!" Elizabeth begged. "I would faint for sure if he even looked at me cross-eyed right now. And after what I heard going on in that office, I'm seriously considering packing up and hitting the unemployment office tomorrow…in another state!"

"Oh, no you don't!" Antoinette growled, standing up and heading for the door. "You're not leaving me here all alone with that man! If rooting him out myself is the only way to make you stay, then so be it. But if he tosses me out the window for disturbing his little hissy fit, then you better show up at my funeral with a big bouquet of flowers and shed a tear or two!"

"I promise!" she solemnly swore, crossing her finger over her heart for effect.

.

.

Antoinette exited her office, followed closely by Elizabeth, and stared dumbfounded at the petite Miss Daaé, sitting in one of the chairs against the wall. The girl _appeared_ mentally stable, no outward signs of insanity that would explain her foolish return. In fact, she looked extremely normal to the older woman's discerning eye, in no way standing out as something extraordinary, thus rating Erik's unreasonable and almost obsessive attention. Her long brunette hair was lovely, Antoinette would give her that, with her natural soft curls framing her face in a pleasing fashion. The last time she saw Christine, the girl had been shouting rebukes at Erik, her eyes ablaze and her face flushed - yet now she looked very much like a prisoner on death row, waiting to see if the governor might grant her a stay of execution. _Well, she would get no such reprieve from Erik Thorn - that was for damn sure,_ Antoinette thought to herself.

Without saying a word, she squared her shoulders, walked past the sitting girl and headed straight for Erik's office. Pausing for only a moment, Antoinette raised her hand and knocked twice on the door in quick succession, before turning the handle and walking in uninvited.

The place was a disaster! Erik's desk was overturned, his lamp was in pieces, every book had been ripped from the shelf, and his flat screen monitor lay shattered in the middle of the floor. She saw his mangled mouse and keyboard peeking out from under one corner of his desk, but she could not visually locate the main computer…though she highly doubted it had fared any better. Papers, pens and assorted office supplies littered the floor, including what Antoinette recognized as the torn up pieces of the contract she had worked so hard on. Oh, well, at least she had saved a copy on _her_ laptop.

"Do you have a death wish, Madame Giry?" came a deep and foreboding voice from the corner of the room. "For you unwittingly took your life in your hands the moment you entered this room without my permission."

Turning her head, she quickly spotted her employer leaning against the wall, his arms crossed ominously over his chest. He had chosen the darkest corner of the room and had blended in so well with the rich walnut paneling, that she had not noticed him until he spoke. When she saw the almost murderous look in his eyes, she took an involuntary step back.

"I…I…" she stammered, her heart racing a mile a minute.

"SPEAK, WOMAN!" he barked, pushing off the wall and taking a few threatening steps closer to her. "And you'd best make your words count, for they could very well be your last!"

"Miss Daaé…she…she's back," Antoinette was able to get out at last. "She's in the waiting room…and she wants to speak with you."

"WHAT?" Erik's entire countenance changed, going from angry as hell to completely flabbergasted in the span of two seconds. "Christine… _is back?"_

"Elizabeth tried to page you by means of the intercom," she told him, reaching down at her feet and picking up the device in question, watching as the bottom fell out, leaving the twisted wires and mechanics dangling in front of her. "But apparently it's no longer working."

"What does she want?" Erik asked, his tone begging for answers. "Does she look upset? Did she actually say she wanted to see _me_?"

"Well, I don't think she came all the way back here to speak with _me_ ," Antoinette grumbled, her courage and fire returning now that Erik was no longer in a murderous mood.

"I can't let her see this," Erik mumbled, looking around the room as he ran his hands through his hair in panic. Then as if an idea struck him, his head whipped back to face Antoinette. "I will meet with her in the conference room…yes, that is what I will do. Tell her I will be right out, and I will need you to bring in another copy of the contract as well."

"Yes, I can see that fared no better than the intercom," she grumbled.

"What are you waiting for?" Erik hissed, as his eyes searched for his missing jacket. Finding it under a pile of books, he worked desperately to smooth out the wrinkles.

Antoinette rolled her eyes in exasperation and turned to leave, making sure to only open the door as wide as necessary in order to shield the disaster within from view.

"Mr. Thorn will be right out," she told Christine, watching as Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief.

.

.

Erik threw on his coat, straightened his tie, and ran his palms over his hair in an attempt to make it lie in place. Not in a million years would he have expected Christine to return after what she had said to him at their parting. After destroying his office in a fit of rage, Erik had stood there in the corner plotting his next move. He was not a man who gave up easily, yet this was one instance where he knew he could not proceed with his usual ramrod techniques. In every other aspect of his life he accomplished his goals by means of threats, or power of strength, but with Christine…well, with her his hands were somewhat tied.

He could not force her to comply, and threats would only make her hate him, and Erik definitely didn't want that. He knew she had not appreciated his ultimatum, but anger he could deal with…anger might fade over time, whereas hate ran deeper. Erik understood hate all too well, and even after thirty-eight years, it still burned in his belly like a dragon's fire. He would do anything to possess Christine, but he had to do it in a way that would not make her detest him. That was why the idea of helping her father had been so brilliant…or at least that was what he _thought,_ before she laid into him with her fervent tongue lashing. Yet Christine had come back. Was he now to be given a second chance for his plan to work? There was only one way to find out.

Taking a deep breath, Erik exited his office, shutting the door firmly behind him as he went. Christine stood up from where she had been sitting the moment he stepped into the room, clutching her purse to her chest as if it were a protective shield. They locked eyes and simply stared at each other for a few moments, until Erik cleared his throat, turning to his secretary as he spoke.

"We will be using the conference room for our meeting. Hold all my calls," he informed her. "Also, call down to maintenance and have them send someone up to look at my desk…there seems to be something wrong with it."

"Y-y-yes, Mr. Thorn," Elizabeth stammered, reaching for the phone as Erik gestured for Christine to follow him.

When he arrived at the door to the conference room, he reached out and opened it, allowing her to go in first before joining her. Once the door was shut, Erik stepped across the room and pulled out one of the rolling leather chairs, waiting for her to sit down before occupying the one next to her at the head of the long wooden table. Once more they were left in silence, neither one knowing exactly how to begin. Finally, the tension appeared to get the better of Christine, prompting her to speak first.

"I…I came back because I want to apologize for what I said earlier, Mr. Thorn," she began, staring down at her hands which she was nervously wringing together in her lap.

"Erik," he replied, taking her a bit by surprise. "I would much prefer if you called me Erik."

Christine looked up at him in disbelief. She had fully expected him to be furious, to deliver a stern reprimand for her outburst, or possibly even have her forcibly removed from the building. However, the last thing she had anticipated was for him to offer her the use of his given name.

"Yes, well… _Erik_ …I do hope you can forgive me for my less than appreciative response to your… _proposal._ Especially before even bothering to hear you out _._ " Every word from her mouth was forced, for deep down she was still enraged over his invasion of her private life and for moving her father…not to mention having obviously forged her signature on the paperwork required to do so. "When I left here, I went to see my father at Leathwood…and…and they told me…that he…he…"

It was now Erik's turn to be shocked and alarmed when, apparently unable contain her emotions, Christine burst into tears, burying her face in her hands as she sobbed uncontrollably for the third time that day.

Erik sat up straight and began to panic just a bit. He was not the kind of man who was easily rattled, having stared death in the face more times than he cared to admit. And yet, seeing Christine reduced to tears was not something he felt at all comfortable with. _Not in the least!_ Reaching into his jacket pocket, Erik removed his handkerchief and held it out to her, waiting patiently until she noticed his offer and hesitantly accepted it. After a few more loud sniffles, Christine was at last able to calm herself, and continue in a shaky voice.

"I…I'm sorry for being so emotional, yet you have no idea the kind of hell my father has been through because of his illness…or what it's done to me, feeling completely helpless as I was forced to watch him slip away from me." Christine had no doubt that she had shed more tears over the past year than in her previous twenty-three combined. "Then, to suddenly be given a measure of hope that he might recover…I can't thank you enough for what you have done for him. And the fact that you have offered to cover the costs for his recovery is…is…oh, Mr. Thorn, I don't know how I can ever repay you!"

"I believe I have already stated the conditions in which I desire to be compensated, Miss Daaé," Erik reminded her, not wishing for there to be any misunderstanding on the subject.

"Yes, I…I'm aware of that," she nodded resolutely. "And I'm now more than willing to consider the terms of your _proposal_ …for my father's sake."

Erik fought back a sly grin as he felt the reins of control being placed back within his grasp, right where they belonged. He had indeed been correct when he assumed Charles Daaé could be used as an effective bargaining chip. Now, he just needed to lay out the conditions in a way that would not cause her to become any more offended, or run out of the room once again. Christine had initially surprised him with her jackrabbit reaction…he would not be caught unprepared a second time.

Just then there was a knock on the door, and knowing it was Antoinette with a copy of the contract he had asked for, Erik called out, granting her admittance. She came in and laid the papers on the table in front of him, then giving a sympathetic smile at the obviously distraught girl, she wisely left without saying a word.

"I have taken the liberty of drawing up a contract that will outline the responsibilities of both parties, yours and mine," Erik explained, setting the document in front of her and waiting patiently as she reached out a shaking hand to examine it closer. "There is quite a lot of legal jargon to wade through, so allow me to give you a quick overview. As you can see, the first page is a summary of what I am willing to provide, including paying for your father's care until he is fully rehabilitated, as well as seeing to your personal needs."

"Personal needs?" she questioned, her eyes glued to the papers in front of her.

"As my wife, you will be afforded certain luxuries that you never dreamed possible," Erik promised, enjoying _this_ part of their conversation very much. "There will of course be no need for you to continue working at the restaurant, and I fully expect you to move out of that dreary apartment and into my home. You will not be required to do any housework, no cooking or cleaning, as I have people who take care of that. Transportation will also be seen to, for I will not have my wife riding buses or taking the subways like the common masses - thus a car and driver will be at your disposal at all times. All your clothes, jewelry, shoes and accessories will be provided for you, contingent upon my approval, of course. You will want for nothing, I assure you."

"Nothing except my freedom," Christine muttered under her breath, completely unaware that she had spoken such disquieting thoughts out loud.

Erik's eyes narrowed slightly, but he chose to ignore her comment.

"As a gift to you on our wedding day, I will transfer all the funds necessary to cover your father's future care to the Leathwood Foundation. No expense will be spared as he recuperates," Erik assured her, yet here his tone turned a bit harsh. "However, should you break the conditions of our contract by choosing to run from me, I will be forced to take full legal action to recoup my investment…by any means I deem necessary. And let me assure you, Christine, it would go very badly for you and your father if you should act in a way contrary to what we agreed upon. Do you understand?" Erik felt a twinge of guilt for laying it on so thick, knowing that he would never follow through with such a threat…yet until he got what he wanted, there was no point in _her_ knowing that.

Christine swallowed the lump of fear that had suddenly lodged in her throat and nodded her compliance…for what else could she do?

"And…what _exactly_ would I be agreeing to?" she asked, her voice dry and hoarse.

"If you turn the page you will see," he instructed, watching as she did so, quickly scanning over the list of stipulations. "In return, you shall willingly consent to a binding marriage with me, and play the part of a typical wife, fulfilling all the duties and expectations of that role. That will include accompanying me to business functions, parties, and any other outing for which I deem your company is required. You will live in my house, take your meals with me, and share every aspect of my life…including my bed."

Here Christine's eyes snapped up, a look of sheer terror flashing across her face.

"Come now, Christine, I trust the concept of sexual relations is not completely foreign to you," Erik continued, betraying no hint of emotion in his tone, though inside he was anything but calm. "You _are_ aware that in order to provide me with an heir, we will need to engage in marital congress."

"I…I…" she stammered, her fingers curling around the document in an attempt to still her shaking hands. "I understand that…it's just that…well, I've never…"

"You are a virgin, then?" Erik surmised from her stilted words. "I suspected as much, yet I am very pleased to have it confirmed. Not that it would have been a deal breaker, mind you, but I would have had to expend a lot of time and trouble to see that any past lovers of yours were eliminated."

Christine released a nervous laugh at his supposed jest - yet when Erik did not join her, not even giving a slight smile, she instantly quieted. He had to be joking…right? Yet what had he said before…he was not the humorous sort? _Oh, God...he was serious!_

"W-w-when?" she asked, doing her best to steer the conversation away from such murderous implications. "I mean… how soon do you expect us to…to…" Christine found that she was unable to even speak the words out loud.

"Contrary to popular belief, Christine, I am not a complete monster," Erik assured her, leaning back in his chair as he gave her an appraising stare. "While I admit to finding you desirable, I do not expect you to surrender yourself to me before the ink on your signature has even had a chance to dry. A period of time to become better acquainted would obviously be to your advantage, as well as mine. I have read that copulation, when consensual by both parties, stands a much better chance for conceiving a child, thus I believe a month's time, perhaps two, in order to become comfortable with each other would suffice. Don't you agree?"

 _Did he honestly want her opinion on that_ , Christine wondered? For in _her_ mind, she would never feel comfortable around this man, even if he offered her a lifetime to get to know him! Yet, a couple months was better than nothing, so once again she gave a silent nod of agreement.

While Erik was pleased that she appeared pacified by his offer of time, he couldn't help but be a bit hurt by her more than obvious lack of enthusiasm over the idea of sleeping with him. After all, Erik had already settled in his mind that they were destined to be intimate; he only hoped he could hold out long enough for her to come to the same conclusion.

"I realize this is quite unconventional," Erik added, not wishing for her to think he was not sympathetic to her distress, "yet I assure you, I fully intend for this to be a true marriage in every sense of the word, Christine. When the judge says, _man and wife_ , I will be taking those vows very seriously. I have put a lot of time and planning into this, and I have no intention of going through the trouble of locating another candidate simply because you suddenly feel you are unable to live up to your word. Once you sign, there will be no turning back."

No turning back? Why did she get the impression that was the case whether she agreed to sign or not? From the moment she had met Erik at the restaurant, she had somehow known her life would never be the same again, she had simply not realized to what extent.

"You…you said I must provide you with an heir," she continued. "But what if…we're not compatible in that way? What if one, or both of us, are unable to have children?" Christine knew that even if it was his desire to have a baby, that did not automatically guarantee one would be conceived.

"I have considered that possibility," Erik revealed. "If you turn the page, you will see there is an infertility clause written in, guaranteeing that as long as every possible attempt is made to fulfill the act of producing an heir, it will not automatically void the contract. If it comes to that, we will look into other means of acquiring a child to complete our family."

"Adoption?" Christine asked.

"When all other medical options have been exhausted," he nodded in agreement. "Though I would greatly prefer that the child be produced naturally, I am not opposed to the idea of adopting."

"But…if you could so easily acquire an heir in _that_ manner…why go to all this trouble?" Christine probed, utterly perplexed by his deranged thought process.

"While I do wish for someone to pass on my fortune to, I also desire a companion to aid me in this endeavor. Raising a child ideally takes two parents, or so I am led to believe. While I do have the means to locate, obtain, and monetarily care for a child by myself, I would prefer to afford them the benefit of a mother in the process," Erik explained, giving no indication that her numerous questions were upsetting him at all. "As I explained earlier, I have neither the time nor the desire to acquire a wife in the usual fashion. And while I admit that my profession and lifestyle do play a big part in that decision…there is one other factor that prevents me from courting a girl in the conventional manner."

Christine stared blankly at him for a few moments before the light of understanding came to her eyes. _His face!_ Had Raffie not said that there were some rather horrific rumors surrounding the reason he wore a mask…and what lay beneath it?

"Do you mean…your mask?" Her words came out more as a statement than a question.

"The fact that you have yet to inquire about its purpose shows me that you either have an unusual shortage of curiosity, or excellent manners. Either way, it speaks well about your character, and convinces me that I have chosen wisely," Erik complimented. "Yet in the spirit of full disclosure, I will tell you this – I do not wear the mask as some publicity stunt or on a crazy whim. I do so to hide a rather severe deformity. I will not trouble you with the gory details by describing it to you, but suffice it to say, it is _not_ pleasant. However, you may rest assured that you will never be burdened with the task of seeing me without my mask, so you can put any such concerns out of your mind." Here Erik leaned forward slightly, holding her in his steely gaze. "And should you ever attempt to discover what lies behind my mask, I will consider that a breach of contract, and you will find yourself facing me in court. There I promise to take you, and your family, for every cent you ever had, or would ever hope to earn in the future. I do trust that I have been perfectly clear on this matter."

"Crystal clear," Christine replied, her ire returning at both the idea of his threat, as well as his assumption that she would ever _want_ to see his face. In fact, she would be more than happy to walk out of his office that very minute and never set eyes on him again…if it were not for her father.

"I can however guarantee that there is no chance that our child would stand to inherit my deformity. I have looked into the issue and had my DNA tested numerous times, guaranteeing that the deficiency that caused the malformation was of an external source. Drugs most likely, or possibly toxins ingested by my mother during my first essential months of growth. Yet whatever the cause, I have been assured that it is not something I run the risk of passing on, so there is no worry of that."

"Thank you for the assurance," Christine mumbled. Though it had not occurred to her until he mentioned it, the thought of having to worry for nine months about her child's appearance would have been torture. There were still a million other things that could go wrong during a pregnancy, but at least that was one thing she would not have to be concerned about. And really…didn't she have enough to fret about already?

Allowing her eyes to drift back to the pages in front of her, Christine scanned further down, noticing a few paragraphs that confused her.

"What do these parts mean…where it talks about a non-disclosure agreement and custody stipulations?" she questioned, turning the contract towards him a bit and pointing at the confusing subheadings.

"I have worked very hard to keep my private life just that…private," Erik explained. "As my wife, you will be privy to information I do not wish to be made public. By signing the contract, you will be agreeing to not speak about such things to anyone who wishes to publicize, expose, or harm me and my business in any way. I will, of course, attempt to shield you from anything that does not concern you directly, but with us living in such close proximity, you are bound to pick up on a thing or two…it is inevitable. I will view any conscious and deliberate attempt to speak about me or my life in a negative way as an act of defiance and betrayal…and it will not be tolerated."

"Dead men tell no tales, is that it?" she asked in a rather flippant manner, causing his eyes to narrow and his jaw to tighten. Quickly realizing her error in judgment, she pressed on, eager to change the subject. "And the part here about custody?"

Erik eyed her skeptically for a few more seconds before answering.

"Should you foolishly decide to breach our contract by leaving me, I will automatically be granted sole custody of the child until it reaches the age of eighteen," Erik explained. "You will of course be allowed visitation rights, but the child will remain under my care until he or she is of legal age."

"You…you would keep a child from its mother, simply out of spite?" Christine questioned, her eyes once more growing wide in disbelief.

" _You_ would be the one choosing to leave your child, Christine, not the other way around," Erik assured her, once again knowing this was something he would _never_ enforce. If Christine were to leave him, he would not have the will to go on, let alone try and raise a child by himself. The idea of insisting on an heir had been nothing more than an afterthought, another way of keeping Christine bound to him indefinitely. Knowing her character the way he did, Erik realized throwing an offspring into the mix would increase her bond towards him tenfold. The idea had also afforded him a logical excuse for insisting upon a physical relationship, without having to explain his true motives for such things. It had all been a rather ingenious strategy on his part, to his way of thinking. "As long as you remain with me, and adhere to the conditions of the contract, you will never have to worry about such things. And as an added incentive, the day our child turns eighteen, and provided that you are still upholding your end of the bargain, half of my entire fortune will then be signed over in your name. You stand to become a very, very wealthy woman, Christine…and all you have to do is sign on the dotted line."

Christine wanted to both laugh and scream in his face for making it all sound so easy. _All you have to do is sign on the dotted line_ , he says. Put a pen to paper and agree to forfeit her freedom and future…what could possibly be more insane?

And yet here she was, about to do just that, all in the hopes of helping her father. From the sound of it, this was a one-way ticket she was buying, there was no chance for separation, divorce, or escape, from this man. Yet, in her mind divorce had never been an option anyway. Christine had been raised to believe that marriage _was_ forever, that once you said _I do_ , you _did_ …for the rest of your life. And just because she would be vowing to become the wife of a man she did not know, or love, that did not negate the fact that she would indeed be his wife. Legally and in the eyes of God…till death do they part.

Christine wished she could say she hated Erik for this, that he was the devil himself and that she found no enticement whatsoever to accept his offer. And yet…she _didn't_ hate Erik. How could she, when he was offering her a chance to have her father back? Of course she had mixed emotions about the whole thing, who wouldn't? And yet, unexpected and overwhelming feelings of gratitude outweighed all the anger and outrage she had originally experienced due to his unorthodox proposal.

Looking up at her potential husband, Christine found herself wondering if there was even the smallest chance that she and Erik could eventually come to a mutual understanding. That there might be the possibility for amiable companionship, even if there could _never_ be a chance for love _._ She had to admit that while he terrified her in so many ways…she couldn't help but feel attracted to him in others. His looks and physique, despite the mask, did not repel her…in fact, oddly enough, they had the very opposite effect! Almost against her will, her body had repeatedly responded to his dark, sensual allure, yet her mind had always stopped her from entertaining such lustful thoughts for very long. But now…if she were to become his wife, bound by this contract to share an intimate relationship with him, Christine would no longer have any logical reason to refuse him.

Still, she knew so little about Erik. His past, his ideals, and even what he did for a living, were still shrouded in mystery. Phantom Industries was obviously a very successful business, but she honestly had no idea what took place here. Then there was the fact that the first time they met, Erik had been in the company of some very shady and disreputable men, causing her to wonder if he was not indeed mixed up with the mafia, just like Maria had insisted.

Christine had been understandably relieved when he offered her the gift of time, saying he would hold off long enough for them to get to know each other better, before she was required to hand over her innocence. Still, there were other things to consider. Was Erik a violent man by nature? She had seen to what extremes he had gone when forcing that Morte guy to apologize to her for the way he acted. That look of rage in his eyes had easily frightened her just as much as the man it had been aimed at. What if Erik ever turned that anger towards her…would he dare to strike her…or worse? This city was filled with women trapped in violent relationships, too afraid or too helpless to seek a way out, and Christine refused to become just another statistic. Gathering her courage, she chose to speak, knowing it was now or never.

"Erik…" she began, hoping her voice sounded more confident than she was, for she realized that she was literally risking her father's life on her next words, "you have stated several conditions that _you_ would interpret as a breach of contract."

"I have," he nodded.

"Am…am I allowed to insist upon a few addendums as well?" she questioned.

"I am prepared to consider them," Erik agreed, gesturing for her to continue.

"Would you be willing to put it in writing that you…that you would never raise your hand to me in anger?" she asked, firing her words out as quickly as possible, before her courage abandoned her. "That you would not act violently towards me, or our child, in any fashion? I need some assurance that we will be safe, and that if you break your word, we will _both_ be free to leave."

Christine watched as Erik's jaw tightened, his muscles twitching slightly where the mask did not cover, and she waited with her heart in her throat to see how he would respond. After what seemed an eternity Erik spoke at last.

"Christine…you need never concern yourself with such things," he stated firmly, yet his tone was anything but comforting. "I realize you know very little about me, but I can assure you that I have never, and I mean _never_ , harmed a woman or a child. You will be my wife, and as such, I am honor-bound to protect and care for you in every way possible. Seeing that our child will be an extension of you, and our union, I would die before allowing any harm to befall him or her!" Here Erik took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself…deeply disturbed by the idea that she felt it necessary to ask such a thing. "However, if it will give you a sense of security, I am more than willing to put it in writing." Erik then reached over and took the papers from her, pulling a pen from his breast pocket and writing in the clause on the final page. When he was finished, he offered it to her for examination.

Christine was shocked at the detail in which he had gone to assure the safety of her and their future offspring, stating that if she ever felt even the least bit threatened by him, the contract would be null and void, giving her the freedom she sought without any danger of reprisal or the threat of losing custody of their child. When she nodded her approval, he reached over and pressed the intercom button on the device in the middle of the table.

"Yes, Mr. Thorn?" came Elizabeth's voice on the other end.

"Please send Antoinette in, I have some revisions I need her to type up," he instructed.

They did not have to wait long before the sleek looking woman appeared once more, entering with a questioning look upon her face.

"You wish for me to amend the contract?" she asked, reaching out and taking the pages from Erik as he held them out to her.

"Yes, please see that the changes I wrote in are typed up immediately, then bring us the updated copy," he insisted.

Antoinette flipped the pages over until she found his writing, her inquisitive eyes quickly scanning the revision. Once she had finished, she nodded, giving him what Christine could only describe as a look of approval.

"Right away," she agreed, hurrying from the room to complete her task.

"Do you have any further questions?" Erik asked, once they were alone. "I would urge you to speak now if you do…I want no misunderstandings between us, no grey areas you feel unsure about."

Christine had one final question…and perhaps it was the most important of all.

"Why me?" she inquired. "You are an attractive, rich, and powerful man …you could have anyone. Why did you pick me?"

Erik sat there staring at Christine with no answer to give. His first reaction to her question had been delight…she considered him attractive! He could not recall anyone having ever said that to him before…unless they were trying to gain something from it. Yet when he went to answer the rest of her inquiry…he was left speechless. Why _had_ he chosen her? Granted, Christine was beautiful…yet so were a million other women in this city. She was sweet and kind, tolerant and helpful…that much was obvious, and definitely added to her allure. Christine also had a voice like no other he had ever heard, and even if it was still unpolished and in need of training, Erik could hear the potential. Yet all those things did not explain the undeniable hold this woman appeared to have over him. Christine was something special, the kind of girl a man spent his entire life searching for, and would do anything to keep by his side forever. All Erik knew for sure, was if he could not have her…he no longer had a reason to continue living. It was that simple. And while he could have said any one of these things, citing them as valid reasons for choosing her… in the end, that is not what came out of his mouth.

"Why _not_ you?" he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "As I mentioned before, you are simply the least objectionable woman I am currently acquainted with or attracted to."

"Oh, I see," was all she said, looking away as if his words had stung her pride.

Erik was saved from having to speak further, running the risk of alienating her more than he already had, by the return of Antoinette. With an approving smile that instantly irritated him, the dark-haired woman handed over the revised contract and once more departed, closing the door behind her.

"There you go," Erik said, offering Christine the pages and then sliding his pen across the table between them. "If there are no more additions you wish to make, it is ready for your signature."

He watched as she picked up the pen and slowly turned to the final page, noting the changes that had been made before focusing on the section where she was expected to write her name. His heart felt like it would beat out of his chest as he watched her hesitate, gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white as she dragged out the inevitable. And then in one hurried motion, _she signed,_ giving Erik everything he dreamed of. Christine was his!

Reaching over, he pulled the contract towards him, doing his best to keep the elation out of his movements, wanting nothing more than to hold the papers in his hand, to know that it was now a reality. With a flourish, he too set his signature just below hers, sealing the deal for all time.

Erik watched as she seemed to almost melt into the chair, closing her eyes as if all the fight had gone out of her. He knew this had been difficult for her, and that she was obviously full of insecurities – yet as her soon-to-be husband, it was now his duty to put her mind at ease.

"You have made the right decision, Christine, and I promise that you will not regret it. A whole new world is about to be opened to you," he assured her. "Now, all that is left is for us to get married."

"And when will that be?" she asked, opening her eyes as she stared blankly out the window. "Next week…next month?"

"Today, of course," Erik answered, never one to let the grass grow beneath his feet, especially when it involved something he wanted this badly.

"WHAT? Today?" she gasped, sitting up straight. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"How many times do I have to tell you, Christine?" Erik responded with a shake of his head. "I am always deadly serious."

* * *

 **Ok I realize that some of you are spitting nails right now over Erik's apparent heartlessness. But please keep in mind, this is only a story, and I promise that given time, Erik WILL redeem himself. ha ha. Also, you know how much I love putting Erik and Christine in awkward situations until they fall in love...and how much more awkward can you get than THIS?**

 **So...looks like Erik was a bit shocked to hear that Christine had come back. And I think Antoinette and Elizabeth were even more so!**

 **And um...Erik...I think maintenance is not going to be able to fix that 'little problem' with your desk. Best go on line and find a new one. ha ha.**

 **Well, now that you all know how this story is going to play out...or at least a general idea, from here on out I will be posting chapters on Fridays and Tuesdays...with maybe a bonus one tossed in now and then to make you all happy.**

 **Thanks for reading! And do try not to hate Erik TOOOOO much.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest:** YAH...that'll teach him! Infertility is something even Erik can't control. ha ha. And of course Erik loves her for herself...and in fact he even said (to himself) that the idea of kids was just an afterthought, a good reason to insist on a physical relationship, he really just wants HER for HER, not what she can give him. AND he even fell for her BEFORE he heard her sing. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Emmy6:** First of all, did you know your ability to receive PMs is turned off? Just checking. And I ttally agree with everything you said, and if this was real life, I would like to imagine she would do all the things you suggested...and to some degree, she did a few...but since I want to move things along, I let her just go for it. ha ha. And as you can see, Erik gave in on a few points, the how long before they sleep together and the clause he wrote in about her and the child being protected. But I think we all know that Erik would NEVER do anything like that. Again, true...if Christine took Erik to the cleaners it WOULD be a rather interesting spin on thing...but I kind of went another direction. I hope you enjoy that path. Thanks for the TWO reviews, ha ha.

 **Guest N:** Thanks for identifying yourself! And Christine is very spunky, but she also knows what's best for her dad and she is not going to be foolish and turn it down. And really...she gets a hot, hunky Erik in the bargain! ha ha. Thanks.

 **Guest:** I'm very happy to have you on board reading. Ummmm, Erik doesn't want flies...he wants Christine. ha ha. But I get your point about the honey. And don't worry, he will mellow out once he has what he wants. Yes, I think Christine is not quite aware of how much Erik wants HER just yet, since he spouted off about all that nonesene about her being 'tollerable' and wanting kids. But as you saw, she did ask for some of her own conditions.

 **Lex888:** I'm tickled to be back as well! And I do hope everyone thinks the same way as you. ha ha. Thanks.


	5. Chapter 5

.

 **Did everyone dress nice? Did you bring an appropriate wedding gift?**

 **Hmmm, I wonder what modern day Erik would think was a good present?**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 5**

 **~X~**

* * *

"TODAY?" Christine repeated, leaping to her feet at the shocking news. "How…where?"

"I have everything well in hand," Erik assured her, also rising from his chair. "I have reserved the banquet hall at the Pavilion, the judge has already been paid, and the paperwork is all in order."

"But…how did you know I would even say yes?" she questioned as he gently took hold of her elbow and escorted her towards the door. Until she went to visit her father, even Christine hadn't known she would agree to this madness!

"I never leave anything to chance," he explained, opening the conference room door and stepping out into the waiting area. Spying his two female employees, Erik began to bark out his orders. "Elizabeth, get Miss Daaé's employer on the phone and inform him that she has officially quit…as of yesterday. But first, have Gerald bring the limousine around front, his services will be required for the rest of the day." Next he turned to the dark haired woman. "Antoinette, you will be accompanying Christine to the dress boutique on Eighth Street and then to the hairdressers before you bring her to the Pavilion downtown." Looking down, Erik gazed at the still slack-jawed girl beside him. "In the meantime I will take care of any last minute arrangements and meet you there." He then gave her a bit of an old fashion bow from the waist. "Until later, Christine." Then he was gone, heading into his office without looking back.

Christine stood there staring at where he had disappeared, still unsure how her whole life had been turned upside down in the space of only a few hours. When she woke up this morning she had been Christine Daaé, waitress and caregiver to her ill father. Yet tonight, she would be going to bed as Christine Thorn, wife to a multi-billion dollar mystery man!

"If you will follow me," Antoinette spoke up, shaking Christine out of her thoughts as she gestured towards the elevators.

"What…oh…yes, of course," she agreed, heading in the direction she had indicated. Apparently this woman thought nothing of Erik's shocking orders, perhaps being accustomed to him making out of the blue marriage proposals and the like.

Well, for Christine, it would take some getting used to!

.

.

Once they were down in the luxurious Mercedes Benz limousine, driven by a very large man who went by the name of Gerald, Christine found her voice and began to ply the woman with questions.

"Your name is Antoinette?" she began, hoping to form some kind of rapport with her, in order to pump her for information.

"Yes, Antoinette Giry," the woman smiled back, yet Christine could tell her eyes were somewhat guarded.

"I take it that you have worked for Erik for some time? Can you tell me something about him…about who I'm about to marry…and perhaps explain to me the reason why?" she all but begged. The other woman was silent for a moment and Christine could see the wheels behind her hazel eyes turning methodically, as if planning her next words carefully.

"I have been employed by Phantom Industries for a little over ten years…but I'm afraid that I can tell you no more about Mr. Thorn than you already know," she informed her, smoothing out her grey skirt in a nervous gesture. "Just like you, I too have signed a confidentiality form and would not run the risk of losing my job, or angering my employer, by giving out something he does not wish for you to know." When Christine's eyes turned sad and she looked away, Antoinette took pity on her. "I will tell you this…while I know you must be completely shell-shocked at the moment, what you did showed both bravery and compassion. I'm fully aware of your father's condition, and from the report the doctor sent over this morning, the sacrifices you made today will hopefully ensure that he gets better. No daughter could have done more for the parent she loves. You should be very proud of yourself."

"Proud?" Christine asked, giving a huff of disbelief. "I may have just made a deal with the devil himself for all I know…how can I be anything but _insane?"_

"It's not as bad as all that," Antoinette said, her voice taking on a more soothing quality. "While I profess a certain loyalty to Mr. Thorn and Phantom Industries, even I would never have allowed you to agree to such a thing if he were truly everything you appear to imagine he is. He may have his rough edges, to be sure, but I believe him to be fair and honorable."

Christine gave a moan of frustration and laid her head back against the seat and stared out the tinted sun roof.

"This is nothing like I pictured my wedding day to be," she said in a sad little voice. "Marriage is supposed to be based on love, understanding, and mutual respect…not some cold, impersonal contract."

"I agree that it might not seem ideal, but even if one marries for love, there are still no assurance that things will work out…or that your husband won't turn on you," Antoinette muttered, looking down at her hands in an almost shameful gesture. "At least you have a written guarantee that you will be physically safe around him…and that is more than most women can claim when it comes to their marriage mates."

Christine glanced over at the woman beside her and felt that she had just been privy to some deep sorrow in her past. Her first instinct was to offer some words of comfort, yet she held back, not knowing how Antoinette might react to the intrusion. She appeared to be a rather formidable woman, her clothes, hair style, and makeup all gave the impression that she was a tough, no-nonsense kind of person…someone who could possibly give Erik Thorn a run for his money. Perhaps that was why she worked for him, because she was the only one who didn't seem to cower in his presence. Christine decided that she wanted to get to know this woman better, that possibly they could even become friends.

"Here we are," Antoinette announced as Gerald pulled the vehicle over to the curb, before hopping out and opening the door for both ladies.

The sign on the storefront read "Bridget's Bridal Boutique" and from what she could tell, it was one of the higher-end establishments here in New York. _Yes indeed,_ Christine thought to herself, _you are definitely on the other side of the looking glass now, Alice._

When they entered the store there was a flurry of excitement as all eyes turned towards Christine, and several women rushed over to greet her.

"Welcome, Miss Daaé! I'm Bridget, the owner, and we're extremely honored that Mr. Thorn has chosen our humble establishment to provide you with your wedding attire," a very businesslike woman spoke up, taking Christine by the hand and leading her to the back of the shop. "I have canceled all my other appointments and fittings this afternoon so that we can all focus on getting _you_ ready for your big day. Mr. Thorn had me lay out several dresses he thought you might like, so why don't we get started? I'm certain you must be very excited!"

"I suppose that's one word for it," Christine replied politely, deciding that these women did not need to know the sordid details behind her upcoming nuptials. She had already made her bed…it was time that she lie in it. But thankfully she had a couple months before it would be in one she shared with Erik. "So…what do you have to show me in white?"

.

.

An hour had quickly flown by, but Christine had still not found anything she liked. Oh, all the dresses were amazing, and they had everything from Oscar de la Renta, to Vera Wang, but none of them _spoke_ to her…none of them felt right. She wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that she was not the typical, blushing bride, looking forward to her big day with anticipation. But whatever the reason…she hated how she looked in every one of them.

"How about this one?" Bridget asked, a hopeful expression once again plastered on her face as she turned Christine around towards the tri-fold mirrors.

Yet, same as the last eleven times, her face scrunched in disappointment and displeasure, signifying that this was not the right one either. She wondered how Erik would react if she chose to get married in her favorite pair of jeans instead.

"No…it's just too…too…" Christine fumbled around, searching for the right word.

"Too modern," came the voice of Antoinette as she walked in from the back, where the storehouse of dresses were kept. "I believe you have what some would call an _old soul_ , Christine, and these contemporary dresses, while very beautiful, are just not you. How about something like this?" At that she held up an elegant gown, patterned more after the style a bride might have worn in the forties or fifties. It had a high neckline that went straight across from shoulder to shoulder, with a cowl neck scoop in the back. The sleeves were made of soft lace and went all the way down to form a point directly over the back of her hands, while the skirt was formed from the same shimmery satin as the bodice and fell straight to the floor with a modest train.

The moment Christine saw it, her hand flew to cover her lips and she had to stifle a gasp of shock. _It was perfect!_ Not only that…but much of the design reminded her of the very gown her mother had worn the day she had married her father. Christine could not count the number of times she had stared at her parent's wedding photo, memorizing every detail, and doing her best to hold onto the precious few memories she had of her mother.

Upon seeing her reaction, Bridget knew they had found the one and hurried to get the bride into the new dress. When Christine came out and stood on the platform, once more staring at her reflection in the mirrors, she couldn't help but tear up slightly at the sight. _She was getting married._ It suddenly seemed so real, and the fact that she was now wearing the dress in which she would speak her vows…words she knew she would only be saying once…it was almost surreal.

"I think we have a winner!" Bridget squealed, clapping her hands in relief. "And thankfully it's nearly a perfect fit. It'll only need a few minor alterations and then you'll be a simply stunning bride, one Mr. Thorn will go crazy over."

Christine immediately rolled her eyes at Bridget's choice of words to describe Erik, almost missing the amused expression that flashed across Antoinette's face. Yet the moment she realized she had been caught, the older woman's stern and stoic look fell back into place.

"Excellent," Antoinette announced, clearing her throat. "Christine and I will go to the beauty shop, get her hair and makeup done, and then be back to pick up the dress in…" she glanced at her watch, calculating the time remaining, "…say, two hours' time?"

"We'll have it ready," Bridget assured her.

.

.

Two hours later, Christine was once again in the black limousine, headed to a place called the Pavilion. Her long hair had been pinned up in a flattering upsweep with delicate white roses intertwined, and her makeup had been flawlessly applied by a team of professionals. The dress had also been retrieved from the bridal shop, having been altered, pressed, and accompanied by matching shoes and the necessary undergarments to complete the look - or so Bridget had informed them. When the limousine pulled into a circular drive, stopping beneath a wide red awning, Christine knew they had arrived.

She was whisked up to the fourth floor to a room that awaited her for dressing and final preparations, before she was scheduled to join her groom. Christine had already resigned herself to go through with this farce of a wedding, and yet she could not quell the undeniable urge to run – to race out the door and never look back.

"You might as well put such thoughts out of your head," Antoinette warned, as if reading her mind. "You signed the contract and you will not like what will become of you should you try to disappear on him now. He _will_ find you… _and_ make you pay." When Christine gave the woman a look of horror, she softened her voice and added, "I only meant financially. Though the idea of facing Erik Thorn in court…well, I would not wish _that_ upon anyone."

"I'm truly stuck then…aren't I?" Christine lamented as Antoinette finished fastening the twelve pearl buttons on the back of her gown near her waist.

"I'm afraid so…but do try and make the best of it," she suggested, peering over Christine's shoulder at their reflection in the mirror. "And really…Mr. Thorn is not as bad as you might imagine. Yes, he has a terrible temper, an ego that knows no bounds, and the money, power, and means to acquire anything he might want…but he has a heart in there somewhere as well. I've seen it. And to top it all off, he does have that damnable sex appeal going for him as well." When she saw the girl begin to blush slightly, she gave her arms a reassuring squeeze. "I see you've noticed it too. Play off of that…make it work for you. Even if there is no love to be found between you, a healthy dose of physical attraction can go a long way in creating a tolerable marriage."

Just then there was a knock at the door and one of the employees of the Pavilion stuck her head inside.

"They're ready downstairs whenever you are," she announced, giving Christine a huge smile before shutting the door behind her.

"Well…it appears to be time," Antoinette told her, turning her around and looking at the still blushing bride before her. "You look beautiful, Christine…Mr. Thorn will not know what hit him." She then reached up and cupped her cheek with her hand. "Now, let's get going before your groom becomes worried and comes looking for you."

.

.

Christine stood at the top of the long staircase, a bouquet of roses in her hand as she took a steadying breath. _This is it,_ she told herself, _your last moments as a free woman._ Yet as she thought about it, what kind of freedom had it truly been? She worked six days a week, made minimum wage, lived in a tiny apartment that she could not even afford, and her father had been in a non-responsive state for the past several months. Yet by walking down those stairs and saying _I do_ , all that would change. Granted, it was nothing like her childhood fantasy of the perfect marriage…but it would be _hers,_ and the only one she was ever likely to have. So with a deep breath, she took one step…then another…then another, until she was walking down the stairs straight towards her destiny. Yes indeed, she was now past the point of no return.

.

.

Erik had spent the past four hours in a constant state of agitation. He was getting married! And even more surprising than that… _he was marrying Christine!_ Neither one seemed at all logical, or remotely possible, yet here he was, dressed in a black Prada tuxedo, with a white rose pinned to his lapel, waiting for his bride. If anyone would have told him two months ago this was where he would be standing…Erik would have snapped their necks for being such an ass. However, two months ago he had not met Christine, or fallen helplessly under her mystical spell, instantly making it impossible for Erik to imagine his life without her. And as he looked up, and caught sight of her coming towards him, like an angel descending the stairway from Heaven, he knew he would forever be lost to her loveliness.

Once Christine reached the bottom of the stairs and made her way to him, Erik tried to speak, he truly did, but nothing would come out. He let his gaze roam over her, from the top of her head to the hem of her alluring dress and decided that she looked perfect…no, more than perfect – she looked exquisite!

"I hope you don't mind that I went in another direction with the dress," she asked, noticing the way his eyes had lingered on her gown. "I just didn't feel comfortable in the ones that Bridget kept pushing on me."

"No…you chose very wisely," Erik assured her, having to clear his throat before he spoke. "I can't imagine anything looking more perfect on you." _Unless it was the kiss of moonlight on her silky skin, as his hands explored every inch,_ that wicked voice whispered inside his head.

"Thank you…Erik," she responded, lowering her eyes as she suddenly became very interested in the bouquet in front of her. "You…you look very handsome as well."

Once more Erik was taken aback by her complimentary words, and he only hoped that she meant them…and that he did indeed please her in some small way. After all, this was not only _his_ wedding day, but _hers_ as well, and he wanted it to be as perfect as possible. Erik wished to give her everything.

"Shall we begin?" inquired a man in a black judge's robe, standing at the front of the room.

Christine looked around and noticed that even though the spacious area was decorated in in yards upon yards of tulle, ribbons, and more roses than she had seen on some parade floats, there were no chairs or places for guests to sit. In fact…there were no guests at all, other than Antoinette, who stood respectfully off to the side. Christine was not an expert on weddings, but even she knew that it was customary to have at least two witnesses present. Would this oversight nullify the marriage?

"We are still waiting for two more guests to arrive," Erik told the man, never taking his eyes off of Christine.

She was about to ask who that might be, when the doors at the far end opened and a somewhat familiar voice rang out.

"Sorry we're late! Traffic was a bear!" came the exasperated complaint from Susan Kimble, her father's nurse from Leathwood.

Tears sprang to Christine's eyes as she watched Susan prop open one of the doors, then stepping back through, she quickly returned with her father in his wheelchair. He was dressed in a fancy suit, his hair neatly combed and looking as handsome as she had ever seen him. Yet, despite all that, Charles Daaé still wore that blank stare in his eyes, the one that caused everyone to believe that no one was home behind them…and it broke her heart.

"You…you brought my father here?" Christine gasped, unconsciously reaching out and taking hold of Erik's forearm as she gave it a squeeze of gratitude. "I can't believe you did that!"

Erik's breath caught in his throat as he looked down to where she had touched him of her own free will. Arranging for her father to come had been such a little thing in his mind, yet he now realized exactly how much it meant to Christine, and he was glad he had thought of it. Lifting the arm that was not in her grasp, he used his index finger to tip her chin up slightly so that she was looking directly at him.

"I only wish to please you, Christine," he told her in a hushed tone. "Never doubt that." Erik enjoyed the way her eyes shimmered, the tears of joy only adding to her beauty. He was delighted to discover that when she cried out of happiness, it did not turn his stomach into a bundle of knots like her tears of fear or sadness. He could get used to _this._

Christine stared at Erik, a wave of utter confusion coming over her at his tender words. One minute he was rattling off conditions of the contract and threatening to take her to court…and now…well she had no idea what was happening _now!_ This man could sure blow hot and cold…but suddenly, Christine could feel his sultry words, as well as his touch, heating up her skin like the winds of summer. _She was in trouble for sure!_

Their moment ended when Susan and Charles finally made their way to where the couple stood, pulling Christine's attention away from Erik and over to her father.

"Oh, Christine, you look like the perfect bride," Susan gushed, placing her hand over her heart as she stared at the young woman. "Your father must be so proud!"

Christine smiled at the kindly nurse and then stepped forward until she was directly in front of her father's chair. Gently pulling up the skirt of her dress, she knelt in front of him until she was level with his eyes.

"I realize this must come as a bit of a shock to you, Papa," Christine began, reaching up with her empty hand and cupping his cheek in a loving fashion. "But please know that I chose to go through with this. I _want_ to do it…for you and for me, and I know that everything is going to be all right." She tried to sound confident, but when her lip began to quiver slightly, she quickly focused on something else, something that brought a genuine smile to her face. "Do you like my dress, Papa? Doesn't it remind you of the one that Mama wore when you two got married? I realize she can't be with me today…but when I slipped into this dress, it was as if a piece of her was here." She then looked down at her bouquet and pulled out one of the small rosebuds, before tucking it securely into his suit pocket. "There, now you look ready for my wedding," she told him with a sad little smile. "I know this isn't exactly what you always imagined for me, with no string quartet from the Met, and no aisle covered in rose petals with guests lining either side for you to walk me down, but it's still my wedding day, Papa, and you being here is what makes it perfect." She picked up one of his limp hands in hers and gave it a kiss. "Wish me luck," she whispered as she stood up and walked back over to where Erik was waiting. "I'm ready," she informed him, blinking back a fresh set of tears that threatened to fall.

Taking her hand, Erik led her towards the judge, positioning them so they could look each other in the eye as the man began. It was a short ceremony, no extra frills or flowery words, yet Christine listened to each vow and took them to heart. Here she was promising before a judge, her father, and God, to take Erik as her lawfully wedded husband. Yet could she honestly agree that she would love, honor, and cherish him? Well, she had no choice but to _honor_ him, for she already signed a paper stating that she would…or suffer the penalty. But what about cherish…or love? Now _that_ she would have to think long and hard about…and even then she could make no guarantees.

Yet Erik had thoughtfully arranged to have her father brought all the way from Leathwood to witness their union, touching her heart with his magnanimous gesture. She had met so many different versions of Erik in the short time she had known him. He was mysterious, aggressive, protective, irritating, confusing, and above all…frightening. Yet if the Erik who had done this act of kindness for her, and the one who had just looked at her with such gentleness in his eyes, could show himself more often…then perhaps she could find it within herself to try.

"Do you have rings to exchange?" the judge asked, breaking Christine from her thoughts.

Before she could articulate any words in reply, Erik reached into his suit pocket and produced a matching pair of wedding bands. And while they were forged from the same color of gold, there was no mistaking which one was hers, for the massive Princess Cut diamond in the center was a dead giveaway. It was flawless, sparkling with a radiance that lit up the room and caused Christine to release a gasp of wonder. She had never been one who fawned over jewelry, her finances not allowing her to splurge on more than a simple pair of pearl earrings, yet as her eyes fell upon the magnificent ring in Erik's hand…she felt in _this_ case she was willing to make an exception!

Erik had been hoping for this very reaction, ever since he had chosen the wedding bands almost two weeks ago. After that he had carried them around in his pocket, often taking hers out to examine it – imagining the look on Christine's face when he presented it to her. It had become a sort of talisman to him, a tangible guarantee that he would soon acquire everything he desired in life. And now the time had come.

Reaching out, Erik brought her hand up as he slid the sparkling diamond slowly onto her ring finger, savoring every blessed second. A perfect fit, just like he imagined they too would become one day. He watched as Christine stared down at the symbol of their union with eyes full of shock and wonder. Erik made a mental note to see that his lovely bride was showered with sparkly gifts on a regular basis.

He then handed her the simple gold band he had chosen for himself, nothing flashy, yet just the thing to signify to him, and all the world, that he was taken… _that he had a wife!_ Erik noted that Christine trembled slightly as she placed the ring on his finger, and he hoped that she did not view these as chains of captivity, instead of emblems of their sacred union. Yet, when her head lifted and she looked up at him, her eyes held no trace of fear, instead there was almost the hint of peace, giving his heart the hope he needed.

"And so, by the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce that you are husband and wife," the judge continued. "You may kiss the bride."

It was over…the ceremony had concluded and Christine was officially a married woman. She was Erik Thorn's wife, now and for all time. And as she looked up into the eyes of her husband, she prayed with all her heart that in time, she could learn to be happy.

.

.

Erik had been anticipating those words since the moment the judge began speaking. He had waited an eternity in the space of those few short minutes for permission to finally kiss Christine. He had wondered a million times what her lips would taste like, if they would be as soft as he imagined, and if she would welcome his own upon hers. And as he leaned in, their eyes never breaking contact until the moment her lids fluttered closed, he discovered the answers at last.

Oh, it was bliss, pure heaven and he never wanted it to end. She tasted like mint and peaches, or was it cherry blossoms and sunshine? No matter, for he relished every moment of it until he was forced to reluctantly pull back, not wishing to frighten her by lingering too long. Yet he had been elated that she had not pulled away…nor had she cried or flinched. Instead as he watched her eyelashes slowly rise, she seemed… _content?_

Erik hovered there, only inches away as he stared down into her deep blue eyes, memorizing every microscopic detail of her face…until the blasted judge spoiled the moment by clearing his throat.

"If you will follow me, I have papers for you to sign," he insisted, incurring a seething glare from Erik. Yet, eager to finalize the union, Erik did indeed accompany him to a nearby table, leading Christine gently by the hand.

.

.

Christine was still in shock over the kiss and followed meekly behind her new husband as they headed off to sign the license. She was not sure what she had been expecting…but it had certainly not been that! She had of course been kissed before, but other than the occasional pecks on the cheek as her infrequent dates had bid her goodnight, her last true honest to goodness kiss had come from her high school sweetheart. However, that had been given to her by a mere boy…while Erik, well…he was _all man_. A man who apparently knew just how a woman wanted to be kissed. The kiss had been perfect…not too soft and not too hard, and most certainly full of promise.

Earlier, when Erik had rattled off the reasons for having chosen her, they sounded as romantic as the ingredients for house paint. Yet the heated look he had given her as she descended the stairs, and now the kiss they had just shared, left her wondering if there might be more to his reasons than he let on. Or was she simply reading more into it than had truly been there, allowing wishful thinking to cloud her judgment? But unless she intended to question him again on his motives, there was nothing else for her to do than bide her time and wait for further information.

Once the marriage license was signed, with Antoinette and Susan acting as witnesses, they spent some time sampling the magnificent buffet that had been catered by the Pavilion. For such a small gathering, they had truly gone all out. There were at least ten different kinds of appetizers, all so ornately crafted and fancy looking, that it seemed a shame to eat them. Erik had also ordered a small two tiered cake, decorated in an elegant monochromatic design, from a local dessert shop. Christine marveled at all the delicious treats, but ate very little, her nerves not allowing her stomach to settle enough all day to become hungry.

She did however indulge in a bite of cake, which Erik, in true groom fashion, insisted on feeding to her without the use of silverware. After cutting the small bite sized piece, he picked it up with his fingers and held it up to her lips, waiting patiently for her to open wide. When she did, he delicately dropped the frosted morsel inside, never daring to touch her in any way. When it came her turn, she did the same, placing the bit of cake inside his mouth, fulfilling the ancient Roman tradition that guaranteed prosperity and happiness for the couple's future. Christine was not at all superstitious, placing no stock in such foolish customs, but right now she was willing to try anything to ensure this union succeed. Yet, when she pulled her hand away, Erik stopped her, gently taking hold of her wrist and bringing her hand back towards his face.

"It appears you are holding out on me," he murmured, eyeing the dollop of frosting that still clung to her dainty digit. His eyes held her transfixed for a moment, before he leaned forward and sheathed her index finger inside his mouth, closing his lips softly around it as he slowly pulled it out. Erik made a slight humming noise as he licked his lips and whispered, "Delicious."

 _Good Lord, Antoinette was right…this man oozed sex appeal,_ Christine thought to herself, a shiver running down her spine. Once he released her hand she turned away with a deep blush, praying that her father had not witnessed the rather intimate display.

Christine found herself also praying for strength.

.

.

When she was not busy with Erik, Christine tried to spend as much time with her father as possible. She even took the opportunity to feed him a few bites of cake, careful to not drop any crumbs on his fancy new suit, obviously having been supplied by Erik as well. She put on a happy face and tried her best to appear pleased with the whole affair, for if her father truly _was_ conscious of what was going on, the last thing she wanted him to believe was that she was unhappy. Christine knew her father was no fool, that he would easily deduce the reason for her unexpected and impromptu wedding. Especially since Erik had been the one who had moved him from his other care facility to Leathwood. Christine felt sick to her stomach as she imagined the scolding words and disappointed looks he would now be giving her if only he could. So she smiled, she laughed, and she did everything possible to act like a happy bride.

"I better be getting your father back soon," Susan eventually announced. "Jerome will be coming on duty in an hour and will wonder where his patient is," she laughed, leaning down to remove the empty cake plate from his lap. "You've been an awesome date, Charles, but I fear I'm about to turn into a pumpkin if I don't get home and put my feet up. You'll be running me ragged come morning, and I'm going to need a good night's sleep if I intend to keep up with the likes of you."

"I told him to behave himself," Christine smiled, enjoying Susan's good sense of humor. "But before you go, I would like to have a few photos taken, if possible." After all, this _was_ the only wedding she was ever likely to have, and perfect or not, she wanted it to be documented. Especially if she was going to have children, she wanted to be able to show them a photo of their parent's wedding day. So leaving her father, she headed over to where Erik was speaking with Antoinette. "Erik…may I ask a favor?"

He immediately ended his conversation with his dark haired legal counsel and gave her his full attention.

"Of course you can, my wife," he granted. "Whatever you wish."

"I think it would be nice if we had a wedding photo to commemorate the occasion," she suggested. "I would like a family shot with my father, as well as the rest of our guests," she requested, nodding towards Antoinette to let her know she was to be included.

"I don't know about that, Christine…" Erik began, never having enjoyed his picture being taken.

"And I would like one of just the two of us…as husband and wife," she pressed on, ignoring his protests. "It would be nice to have one to hang on the wall, you know, as a memento."

This idea silenced Erik's objections, finding the thought of Christine wishing to display physical evidence of this day very pleasing indeed. If she were regretting her decision, or if she felt she had made a terrible mistake, why would she wish to have a reminder of those vows?

"Very well, we shall have a few photos…though I'm afraid I made no arrangements for a photographer," he confessed.

"I have a camera in my purse," Antoinette piped up, reaching behind her as she pulled out a rather expensive looking digital Nikon. "As a woman who deals with all kinds of legal situations, I know the importance of being able to snap a few photos for evidence, should the need arise. And the quality will be much better than taking them on someone's phone."

"Perfect!" Christine commended, looking around the room until she spotted one of the waiters clearing away a few empty glasses. "Excuse me, sir, could you please help us out?" When the man looked up, startled that he was being called upon, she signaled for him to come over. "We need you to take our picture. Antoinette, show him where the buttons are and I'll go get my father and Susan."

Soon Christine had them rounded up, the two of them positioned in the center, with her father and Susan standing beside her and Antoinette next to Erik…or as close as comfort would allow. After at least a dozen shots were taken, just in case someone blinked or was not smiling correctly, the waiter relinquished the camera and went back to his job of clearing the table. Antoinette then took over and got a few more of just Christine and her father, as well as the requested pictures of the newlyweds alone. All the while Erik was stiff and appeared very uncomfortable, but he stood there and did his best to smile…well at least he did his best to not look grumpy.

When Antoinette agreed they had enough photos, and promised to get them printed up, Susan once more announced it was time for her and Charles to leave. Christine came over and knelt beside her father, squeezing his hand goodbye.

"I'll be out to visit you real soon, Papa. Apparently now that I've quit my job, I'll have a lot more time to spend with you." Christine was finding it hard to wrap her mind around how different her days would now be. She knew her father had to leave, and that he was going back to a much better place than he had been before, but she was still finding it difficult to let him go. It had been wonderful to have him here with her, lending a sense of normality to this whirlwind day of surprises, and she feared the moment he was gone, that the cold hand of regret would take hold. But again, she pasted on a happy smile and whispered in his ear. "Be happy for me, Papa. I promise that I know what I'm doing." When she pulled back, she felt Erik's presence beside her. Looking up at him she waited to see what he might do or say.

"Have a safe trip back, Mr. Daaé," he told her father in a quiet but firm voice. "And you need not worry about your daughter any longer…I will take very good care of her."

When it became apparent that Erik had said his piece, Christine gave her father a kiss to the cheek, and nodded her approval for Susan to wheel him away. As she watched them go, she felt a pair of strong hands come to rest on her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles against the bare skin on her back.

"You may visit him any time you wish," he promised, seeing the solitary tear slip down her cheek. "I will never keep you from seeing him."

"Thank you," she replied, reaching up to wipe her eyes, doing her best not to smudge her makeup. "It meant so much having him here today."

"It was only right that your father be here to see his little girl get married," Erik nodded, once again mentally patting himself on the back for having arranged it. "But now that he has left…I believe we should do the same."

 _"What?"_ she asked, turning around to face him with a fearful look in her eyes.

"It is getting late, Christine, and since there are no longer any guests to entertain, I would say it is time to head home," Erik surmised, gesturing with his hand at the emptiness of the room.

"What home?" she questioned. "Do you mean your place?"

"Well, we are certainly not going back to _your_ apartment," Erik insisted, his tone a cross between amusement and disbelief. "And it is no longer only _my_ place…but yours as well. We are married now, Christine, and as such you agreed to live with me as man and wife. Now, I ask you again…are you ready to go home?"

Oh, God…and there it was, the hand of fear squeezing tightly around her throat, cutting off her airway. _What on earth was she going to do now?_

* * *

 **Well, Christine, I have a few ideas...and so does Erik...but it will have to wait for at least a month, maybe two. ha ha.**

 **Now come on, dear readers, you HAVE to give Erik points for arranging for her dad to be there. Yet I think he only did it because he knew Charles couldn't yell, scream, or bite his head off for marrying his daughter...yet. ha ha.**

 **And, look, Christine did get to pick out her own wedding dress too.**

 **Well, now that the wedding is officially over...time for the marriage to start!**

 **See you again on Tuesday!**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest N:** I'm happy you are excited for more, because I'm just as anxious to give you more chapters. ha ha. Oh yes, M. Giry will be in the story a lot, and you will learn more about her as we go along. Everyone has secrets! Thanks!

 **Guest:** I'm happy you like it, and don't worry...I've got more! Thanks

 **Guest:** Wow, that's quite the compliment, in love with ALL my works? Even my secret one? ha ha.


	6. Chapter 6

**.**

 **It's Monday!**

 **Oh, did I forget to tell everyone that I am switching to Mondays and Fridays for my posting days, that way I can have all day Tuesday off to write? Well, I am.**

 **So let's tune in and see how Erik and Christine handle their first few hours of married life.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 6**

 **~X~**

* * *

As Gerald drove them home, Erik studied Christine carefully while she stared out the window, her fingers absentmindedly fiddling with her wedding ring. It gave Erik a surge of pleasure to see it on her hand, as if he had marked her for all time, signaling to all other men that she was his. He stared down at his own wedding band, a sly smile spreading across his lips at the sight… _he was married._

While Erik had never once doubted he had the ability to make this day happen, he had to admit that Christine's unexpected emotional blow up in his office had given him pause. He had been furious, mostly with himself, and had taken his rage out on the furniture in his office…which in retrospect was nothing new. He often wondered if that was the reason keeping a secretary, as well as regular maintenance workers, had become so difficult. So far, Elizabeth had lasted longer than any of the others, but he felt he had Antoinette to thank for that, the older woman often serving as a buffer between him and his other employees. Mrs. Giry was a singular sort, and knowing her background the way he did, Erik was often surprised that she returned to work day after day, especially in light of his customary fits of rage. She was a tough old bird, and he admired her for it.

"I must apologize for not immediately whisking you away on a honeymoon, as is tradition," Erik spoke up, interrupting his bride's study of the city lights flying by outside. "But as you must realize, this wedding was a bit _impromptu_ , and I am currently unable to leave the city due to several important business deals."

"That's all right," she replied, still gazing out the window. "I wouldn't wish to leave my father right now anyway."

"I can understand that," Erik nodded, feeling a bit less guilty over his denying her a trip to a beachfront hideaway, or wherever she would have liked to have gone. "Perhaps later then, when he is doing better and I am not so tied down. Does an island getaway interest you…or Europe perhaps…Spain?"

"I…I don't know," she admitted, finally turning to look in his direction. "I've never thought much about traveling. My father has been all over the world, always moving from place to place in his younger days for his art. But I can't say that I inherited his wanderlust, and am quite content to remain in one place." When she noted that Erik seemed a bit deflated by her answer, she added, "Yet, it would always be nice to visit some of the countries he talked about so often."

"Excellent!" Erik stated, perking up at her compliance. "We will schedule a belated honeymoon for later then. You think on where you would like to go, the world is your oyster."

They fell into silence once again and did not speak until they arrived at their destination. When Gerald stopped the car, he came around and opened the door on Erik's side, allowing him to exit first so he could assist his wife personally. Thankfully, Christine's dress had been bustled neatly so that her small train no longer dragged, allowing her to extract herself from the vehicle with a minimal amount of fuss. Yet when she got a look at what lay in front of her, she stumbled slightly, requiring Erik to take hold of her arm more firmly to see that she remained upright.

"Are you all right, Christine?" he asked, concern showing in his eyes.

"Yes…fine…it's just that…is _this_ where you live?" she gasped, taking in the sight of the enormous mansion.

"Correction…this is where _we_ live," Erik insisted, leaning down just a bit as he whispered his next words teasingly in her ear. "A bit nicer than a cardboard box on the street, wouldn't you say?" He waited a moment until he saw the light of recognition come to her eyes, recalling the statement she had originally made in his office about preferring to live in a box on the street than under the same roof as him. The delightful blush that came to her cheeks caused him to give a devilish smile. "Welcome home, Mrs. Thorn." Erik said as he led her forward, refusing to relinquish his hold.

The place was huge…and amazing, leaving Christine unable to believe that this was where she would now be living. They had not driven too far out of the city, yet from the tall trees and vast gardens that she could just barely make out in the darkness, they might as well have been on another planet. The marble steps led to a set of double doors, with brass lions' head knockers on either side, giving it an almost gothic atmosphere. Unlocking the door and escorting Christine inside, Erik allowed her a few moments to take it all in. The foyer was gigantic, with a sweeping staircase leading to a second floor balcony that jutted out and hung over the room. Straight ahead there was a large sitting area, well-furnished and impeccably decorated, with a wall of glass doors that appeared to lead out to some kind of terrace. There were several other doors on either side of the room, but she did not know where they led, and she was still too stunned to ask.

"I realize you must be tired, but allow me to give you a short tour," Erik offered, eager to show off the house he had purchased strictly to please her. Leading the way, he headed off to the left, through a door and down a hall until they came to the kitchen.

Christine almost laughed at what she saw, thinking that Raffie would have given his eye-teeth to have a prep area as nice as this in his restaurant! Everywhere she looked was the latest appliance, top of the line cookware and an endless sea of marble counter tops, polished to gleaming.

"It looks as if no one has ever been in here," she marveled, running her hand over the smooth surface.

"On the contrary, I employ a woman who comes in to cook dinner each night. I have never been big on breakfast, and I normally eat out for lunch, but Mrs. Murphy arrives around three, cooks and serves dinner, cleans up, then leaves before eight. I, of course, gave her tonight off, but if you are still hungry I could easily whip up something for you myself."

"No…I'm fine, thank you," she insisted, waving him off. "I ate plenty at the reception."

Erik knew that to be a lie, for he had seen her only nibble at the sumptuous feast the Pavilion had provided, yet he would not embarrass her by pointing this out.

"Very well, shall we continue the tour?" he suggested, gesturing to the door at the other end of the kitchen.

This led into a small dining area, again appearing as if it had never been touched, let alone used for eating. From there they entered a comfortable living space designed for entertaining, complete with an eighty inch flat screen television mounted on the wall. There was a luxurious couch Christine was certain she would sink into and be lost forever, an impressive desk and several chairs scattered around the room designed for lounging. Unlike the other rooms, _this one_ had the look of being lived in, as Christine noted by the stacks of papers and folders all over the desk.

"Please forgive my mess," Erik requested, looking a bit self-conscious at the sight of the clutter. "I am still deciding where I want to put things, but all of this will be filed away eventually, I promise."

"Still deciding where to put things?" Christine asked, glancing over at him curiously. "How long have you lived here?"

"Two weeks," he answered.

"Only two weeks?" she repeated, unable to believe her ears, especially after seeing how the furniture was all in place and the knick-knacks were neatly arranged on the shelves. As well as decorative throw pillows on the sofa and ornate Persian rugs on the floor. How could a person make a house feel so homey in such a short period of time? "Where did you live before?"

"On the thirteenth floor of Phantom Industries," Erik answered.

"You had an apartment there?"

"No…I had the entire floor transformed into my living space," he revealed, grinning slightly as he saw how impressed she seemed to be by this. "Most people are too superstitious to want to work in offices on the thirteenth floor of a building, but I put no stock in such nonsense, and decided it to be the perfect use for that particular space. I plan to keep it, no sense in giving it up, yet I think this place is much more suited for a family situation. I hope you agree."

"Yes, the place is… _amazing_ ," she had to admit, thinking she would be hard pressed to find anything she didn't love about the house… _other than its owner._

"This will likely be the room we end up using the most, for unwinding after work, talking, and general entertainment," Erik told her with a look of satisfaction. "I will often be forced to bring some work home with me, but you could sit on the couch and read, perhaps watch a movie, while I work at the desk or in a chair with my laptop." He looked around, surveying the room with a nod of approval. "It will be the picture of domesticity."

Christine suddenly realized just how fascinated her new husband seemed to be with anything traditional, and how often he used different phrases that conjured up the picturesque, happy home. She was beginning to suspect that the notion of marital harmony was something Erik craved, whether it be real or fabricated. In a day and age where people were always challenging the norm and redefining the definition of family, Erik appeared to be clinging to past ideals, wishing to recreate them for himself somehow. Christine hoped he did not expect her to flounce around the house in a polka dot cocktail dress, high heels and a pearl necklace, like Donna Reed used to do on her show in the fifties and sixties. It was not hard to understand why Erik had been so taken with her choice of wedding dresses…the style had been right up his alley.

Just then, they heard a clock in the hall chime the hour, alerting Christine to exactly how late it had become. Unable to stop herself, she covered her mouth as a yawn escaped her lips, causing her to blush slightly at the rudeness she felt it conveyed.

"Please forgive me, Christine, I have obviously kept you up too late," Erik chided himself, realizing his quick tour had lasted longer than planned. "Come with me and I will show you to your sleeping quarters."

Attempting to stifle another yawn, and failing, Christine followed Erik towards the large wooden staircase. A full night's sleep would do her a world of good, or so she hoped. It would feel nice to have some time to herself, in order to regroup and plan out how she would take on her new role as a wife, and in the near future… _a mother!_ When they arrived at the base of the stairs, Erik gently took hold of her left arm, just below the elbow in an offer of assistance, attempting to move slowly as she maneuvered each step so she would not tread on her dress. They were just about halfway up before she realized something.

"My things!" she gasped, stopping in her tracks. "I…I have no clothes, no sleepwear…nothing at all to change into. I…I need to go back to my apartment."

"There is no need to worry," Erik chuckled, urging her to continue walking as he spoke in a soothing manner. "Your apartment will be carefully packed up and all your things delivered here by tomorrow. As for tonight, I am sure you will find that I have seen to your needs quite adequately."

They made their way to the top of the stairs and down a short hall to a set of double doors. Turning the handles, Erik opened them wide and stepped inside, hitting a switch on the wall that bathed the room in light. Christine's mouth once more fell open in shock, for the place was as large as her entire apartment! On either side of the room there were matching night stands, two comfortable looking chairs and two doors, each possibly leading to a restroom or closet. The only thing visible that did not have a counterpart… _was the bed!_ Positioned smack dab in the center of the room, as if it were the focal point meant to direct the eye, the king sized, four poster bed appeared to be made of the richest, most ornately decorated wood Christine had ever seen.

"I hope you approve of the decor," Erik insisted, looking from the room then back to her in expectation. "If not, I have no objections to you making some changes, I would be just as comfortable with a more contemporary style bedroom if that is what you desired. It does not matter to me, and you may decorate our room anyway you wish."

 _"Our room?"_ Christine squeaked, literally taking a step backwards in disbelief. "You mean… _you_ are going to sleep here as well?"

This statement caused Erik to give an exasperated sigh as he crossed his arms over his chest in irritation.

"Christine…I thought I made it perfectly clear that we would be sharing every aspect of married life. Do you somehow believe that a typical husband and wife keep separate rooms?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he felt the sting of rejection. "That might have been the way things were done back in the Victorian age, but not now. Thus I fully expect you to hold to your word and share a bed with me like you promised."

"I…I will…I mean I planned to…it's just, I thought you said we would have a period of getting to know each other first," she quickly clarified, attempting to soothe his ruffled feathers. "I'd simply not expected that we would be sharing sleeping quarters… _so soon!"_

"I see," Erik nodded, apparently appeased by her explanation. "I am sorry that I was not clearer on the subject then, for yes, I fully intend for us to begin our roles as husband and wife immediately. As agreed upon, I will not expect you to do anything more than sleep beside me until you feel adequately comfortable doing so. But I distinctly recall saying that you _would_ be sharing my bed."

"Yes…of course," she murmured, looking down at the plush carpet, quite unable to meet his eyes at that moment. "I understand."

"Very good," he nodded, striding over to the right side of the room where he opened one of the two closed doors. "This is your closet," he informed her, stepping aside so that she could see the area big enough to be considered living quarters for a family of five in many third world countries. From her vantage point she could easily perceive the dozens upon dozens of outfits, all hung neatly on hangers or folded on shelves, and each one placed there for her use alone. Once he felt she had an eyeful, he then walked to the next door. "And this is your private bath. You will find it fully stocked with everything you might need, including a small closet with your underthings, nightgowns, and other unmentionables. My closet and lavatory are on the other side, so you need not worry about me invading your private space. The only thing you are required to share is the bed, which we have both just agreed is what married couples do."

As Erik finished his spiel, he noted that Christine was still hovering in the doorway, not having dared to take a step inside. He had so enjoyed watching her all evening, for the dress she had chosen flattered her form and figure perfectly, making it difficult to take his eyes off of her. Yet now his greatest desire was to see her out of her dress and into one of the many nightgowns he had painstakingly chosen. Erik had spent two evenings doing nothing except online shopping. Clicking his mouse late into the night as he selected outfit after outfit, one slinky nighty after the other, until he felt he had acquired enough clothes to last her…well, he honestly had no idea how many nightgowns a woman required, but he could always buy more. Yet, before he had a chance to see her in some of the nightclothes, he first had to coax her into the room.

Stepping towards her, Erik gave an inviting gesture, one what would hopefully convey his desire that he wished her to step inside. He watched as she eyed him nervously for a few moments, before at last coming forward on stiff legs. Once she was far enough inside the room, he reached behind and shut the doors, noting that she jumped slightly at the sound.

"Are you able to remove your gown yourself, or do you need me to assist you?" he offered, having heard stories about the complicated fasteners and numerous contraptions required to keep a wedding dress in place. Part of him hoped she would say yes…yet the part of him that promised to control his desires warned him that such a thing would be far too tempting. He held his breath and waited for her to decide.

"I…I can do it myself," she assured him, quickly scurrying into her bathroom and shutting the door behind her.

 _Well…problem solved,_ he thought with a sigh. And after standing there and staring at the door for a few moments more, Erik turned and began to shrug out of his tuxedo jacket as he headed towards his closet.

.

.

Christine stood in the middle of the room and stared at herself in the full length mirror that hung on the wall directly in front of her. Who was this girl looking back at her, for suddenly she felt she no longer knew? _A complete and utter fool, that's who,_ her mind said in a condemning voice. _You can't do this…why did you ever think you could?_ And yet Christine knew she must, she had signed a contract and spoken her vows. The old saying 'marry in haste, repent at your leisure' came to mind and she realized just how true that was. A one day courtship and marriage seemed a bit hasty to be sure, and now she had the rest of her life to contemplate her rash decision. Yet all she wanted to think about was how beautiful Leathwood looked and how the staff there appeared to truly care about their patients. Not to mention the fact that Dr. Mills had assured Christine that her father _could_ get well.

Walking over to the small closet, she opened it up to find half a dozen drawers, each filled with undergarments and sleepwear. The fact that the bras and panties were her exact size did not surprise her in the least, even if she felt it probably should have. What did shock her was that everything looked as if it came right out of a Victoria's Secret catalog. After searching through all the drawers, and not finding a single pair of pajama pants that weren't lacy or didn't end mid-thigh, Christine gave up in a huff and instead chose the longest nightgown she saw. And while it reached clear to her ankles, covering up the majority of her body, it was also made of the softest silk and would undoubtedly cling to her shape rather seductively. This was most definitely a case of the lesser of two evils.

Slipping out of her wedding dress and removing the low backed bustier, which thankfully fastened in the front, Christine tugged the silky white nightdress over her head, and respectfully hung up the gown she had just been married in. Running her hand down the shimmering satin, she frowned slightly, saddened by the fact that she would never again have an opportunity to wear this fabulous dress. Christine had heard of many women having their bridal wear transformed into something they might be able to use again at a fancy party, but the idea of destroying such a sentimental item seemed wrong to her. It had reminded her of her mother, made her feel closer to her somehow, and…well, regardless of the farce of a marriage she was now trapped in, it was still her wedding dress! _It would remain intact._

Heading towards the sink she found some cold-cream and a washcloth and set about removing her makeup. She giggled slightly as she imagined Erik's reaction to seeing her _au naturel_ for a change, with no beauty products to enhance her looks. Would the poor man run screaming into the night, straight to his lawyers to get the marriage annulled? Something told her that was just wishful thinking, but it brought a smile to her lips regardless.

So after taking the pins out of her hair and letting it hang loose, brushing her teeth, and using the facilities, Christine was ready for bed. And yet…she didn't feel ready to leave the room. So sinking down on the chair in front of the dressing table, and bringing her feet up so that her knees were at her chin, she sat there staring off into space, desperately trying to gather her courage.

.

.

Erik had long ago attended to his evening routine and dressed for bed, putting on one of his new black night shirt and pants sets. Unless there had been a specific reason not to, Erik had long ago become accustomed to sleeping in the nude, so wearing night clothes felt rather strange. Yet the last thing he wanted to do was make Christine even more uncomfortable than she already appeared to be, thus he had planned ahead, all the while hoping he would be back to his normal attire soon.

He had also donned a lightweight cloth mask, having found that when necessary to wear one to bed, black seemed to be the color most conducive to sleep. It seemed to absorb the moonlight and not reflect it back into his eyes, thus keeping him awake, he only hoped that Christine would not find it frightening. Now with everything on his end taken care of, Erik sat there on the bed, waiting for his bride to emerge. It had become very quiet in there some time ago, yet not knowing anything about woman's bathroom duties, he continued to sit there.

After a full half an hour had passed, Erik began to become concerned. Rising to his feet he silently crept to her door and pressed his ear to it and listened. Nothing. Not a sound. He began to worry that his new wife might have climbed out the window and shinnied down the drainpipe. But then he remembered there was no drainpipe near her bathroom window, and the drop to the ground was almost twenty feet. _Surely she wouldn't dare?_ And yet…

"Christine?" he called, panic now causing him to softly knock on the door. "Are you all right in there?" Erik held his breath, waiting on pins and needles until an answer finally touched his ears.

"Yes," came her quiet reply, not sounding very convincing, yet relieving much of his worries.

"You have been in there a long time," he informed her, as if she didn't already know. "Will you be joining me some time before dawn? It is already past midnight and I am afraid I have several meetings tomorrow that will require me to remain awake. Might I expect you out soon?" He had attempted to put as much humor in his words as he could, trying to lure her out gently.

Erik took a step back in surprise as he heard a click and the door slowly opened, revealing his bride dressed in one of the lovely nightgowns he had purchased for her. Her arms were wrapped around her middle, as if trying to hold herself together, and she refused to make eye contact with him. Again, he hoped the dark colored mask was not the reason.

"You look lovely in that, Christine," he told her, his voice deep and husky with desire. Erik had thought his bride had looked beautiful in her wedding dress, yet in her evening attire...she looked sinfully delicious. The small spaghetti straps that held the plunging neckline in place tempted and teased him, almost begging to be eased off her shoulders. Erik began to realize just what a Herculean task it was going to be to wait the one or two months he had promised, before being allowed to touch her. He hoped she could not detect the lust that now ran rampant through his body, and he knew if he were to reveal what his mind was truly thinking, Christine would scurry back into the bathroom and never come out – of that he was certain.

So he stood there in silence, waiting to see how she might proceed, yet with each passing second he was beginning to have second thoughts. Was he pushing her too hard, expecting too much too fast? The last thing he wanted was for Christine to hate him, and he could tell from the way she was pulling inward, that she might be on the brink of doing just that. Perhaps letting her sleep in one of the spare rooms, just for tonight, would not be _that_ bad? Every fiber of his being screamed no…but his heart would not allow him to watch her suffer like this.

"Christine," he began, releasing a heavy sigh. "If you don't think you can…"

"No!" she stated firmly, cutting him off mid-sentence. "I can do this. It's what I agreed to and I'll not go back on my word." She then marched towards the bed, pulled back the covers and hurriedly slipped between the sheets. Turning on her side, facing away from where he would be lying, she pulled the blankets tightly up around her chin. "Good night," she told him, squeezing her eyes shut and not saying another word.

Erik stood there and stared at her for a few moments, before walking around to his side and climbing in next to her. It was a large bed, so if they didn't move around a lot, it was highly unlikely that they would touch at all. Erik reached out and hit the light switch, plunging the room into darkness. The sliver of moonlight that filtered in allowed Erik to make out the shape of his new bride who was huddled beside him, doing her best to appear already asleep. He smiled to himself as he leaned back against his pillow, his fingers lacing behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. No, it was not the perfect situation, nor was it exactly a traditional marriage…but the only thing that truly mattered was that Christine was now his legal wife. She had said yes, she had accepted his ring, and she was currently sleeping in his bed.

And even though there were a million other things weighing on Erik's mind, just knowing Christine was there beside him would ensure that, for the first time in over a month, he would sleep easy.

* * *

 **Awwww, Erik is so happy! Christine...well, not so much, but she's managing.**

 **Now what will the morning bring?**

 **So, Erik bought the house just for her and moved in over the last two weeks. Wow.**

 **And did anyone see that whole sharing a bed thing coming...or were you as shocked as Christine? Erik was rather clear about that...he really was.**

 **Can you all just imagine Erik on the internet shopping at Bloomingdales and Victoria Secret? Bet he had a lot of fun and spent a pretty penny.**

 **More on Friday!**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest:** Are you absolutely, positively in love with the story...or Erik. Because I can't fault you for either, ha ha. Thanks!


	7. Chapter 7

.

 **BONUS CHAPTER!**

 **Why? Why not?**

 **Just feeling generous today I guess. ha ha.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 7**

 **~X~**

* * *

Christine woke to the pleasant sound of chirping birds. Not cars honking, not screaming babies, or people yelling obscenities at one another…but to honest to goodness songbirds! Her eyes flew open as she quickly took in her surroundings, desperately trying to remember where she was. When the events of the previous day came flooding back to her, she shut her eyes once more, releasing a moan of displeasure.

"Good morning, my wife," came Erik's voice from behind her, causing Christine to instantly roll over and scoot away from him. She gave a yelp of panic when she suddenly ran out of bed and began to fall backwards, frantically grasping for anything with which to impede her descent. Like lightning, Erik's left hand shot out, grabbing hold of her arm as he prevented her from painfully toppling onto the floor. "Careful there, little one, we don't want you taking a tumble now, do we? I would hate to have to explain to Antoinette how you got a few bruises and a broken arm…especially on our wedding night! And with her long history of trust issues, I hardly doubt she would ever believe the truth." Erik laughed, pulling Christine safely back from the edge, her silk night dress offering little to no resistance against the satin sheets. "I hope that you slept well, discounting your rather abrupt and eventful waking, that is."

Christine was far too stunned to speak and simply gathered the blankets up around her chin and stared at him. She had caught the brief flash of pain in his eyes at her attempt to distance herself, but as quickly as it came, he seemed to push it down once more.

Erik was already fully dressed, wearing a pair of designer suit pants and a pristine white dress shirt, complete with gold cufflinks. He was currently resting on top of the covers and had just returned to his position of leaning against the headboard, supported by several fluffy pillows. She noted that he was again wearing his white mask, and it suddenly struck her that she had fallen asleep so quickly last night, that she had no idea if he had removed the black one during his slumber. Erik had told her that she would never see him without it, and she highly doubted that he would have risked her waking and catching sight of him if he had chosen to take it off. It couldn't possibly be comfortable, wearing that thing all day and all night, even if he appeared to have one specifically for sleeping purposes. However, it had been _his_ rule, not hers…so she kept her mouth shut.

Christine noticed that in his right hand, Erik still held a packet of papers he had apparently been working on, with a ballpoint pen lying on the covers between them, where he had dropped it in order to grab hold of his falling wife. He seemed to be completely at ease with this odd situation, something Christine wished she could say she felt as well… _but she couldn't._ Still, Erik had kept his word and not demanded that she do anything more than sleep beside him last night. And if she was forced to admit it…her slumber had been very serene indeed, no bad dreams, no lying awake all night…just perfect peace. How in the world had _that_ happened?

"I do hope the sandman has not robbed you of your beautiful voice," Erik continued, retrieving the pen and clicking the top as he folded the pages closed, before setting them on his nightstand next to his iPhone. "I was so looking forward to us sharing a bit of conversation over breakfast. Are you hungry?"

Her first inclination was to say no, yet her lack of appetite last night had finally caught up with her, leaving her completely famished. In fact, at the mere mention of food, Christine's stomach gave a quiet rumble, firmly protesting the hunger strike it felt she had cruelly instigated.

"It…it would appear so," she told him with a slight blush, as she placed her hand over the disquieted area.

"Excellent! I will see to it while you get dressed," he nodded, easing himself off the bed in a single elegant motion. He had made it halfway to the door before he stopped, snapping his fingers as if he had forgotten something, and returning to the nightstand to retrieve his papers and phone. "Mustn't forget these. I will leave you to get dressed and see you downstairs in, shall we say, thirty minutes?"

Christine nodded silently, and after acknowledging her reply with a slight bow of his head, Erik quickly left the room. Now alone, she couldn't help but wonder if he had taken the papers and his phone with him because he needed them…or because he didn't want _her_ to see them? What exactly had been on those pages? Could he be hiding something nefarious from her? They had appeared to be just a series of numbers…but maybe it was more than that. They could have been anything, from secret Swiss bank accounts, to computer codes designed to crack Fort Knox. Or perhaps all the phone numbers of his past lovers?

 _Oh, for pity sake,_ Christine thought to herself. _Now who was being overly dramatic?_ Still…she supposed that none of her suspicions were outside the realm of possibility, and Erik had alluded to his sexual exploits a time or two before. It would be foolish for her to expect that a man such as he had lived a celibate life up until now. How old had he said he was…thirty-eight? The chances of him still being a virgin were pretty slim, especially considering the state of his financial situation. Even despite the fact that he wore a mask, Christine was certain he could easily get a woman willing to look the other way…for a time.

Shaking her head to rid herself of such disturbing thoughts, Christine climbed out of bed and headed for her closet. Choosing her attire turned out to be harder than she anticipated. If one thought deciding what to wear was difficult when you had only a few outfits to choose from, it was ten times as bad when you had too many! When she had at last selected an outfit, a pair of dress slacks and a complementary blouse, she headed for the bathroom to shower.

.

.

At thirty minutes on the dot, Christine began her descent down the stairs and made her way towards the kitchen, the delicious smell of bacon and eggs leading the way. When she opened the door, Erik was standing over the small table in the corner, spooning fluffy yellow scrambled eggs out of a frying pan and onto a couple of plates.

"Right on time," he complimented as he placed the empty pan back onto the stove to cool. "Please, have a seat, I will bring over some coffee and we should be set."

Christine sat down and eyed the feast before her with great anticipation. Normally she raced out of her apartment so quickly each morning, in order to make it to the care center before her father was served _his_ breakfast, that she would often overlook her own. And even when she did take time to eat, it was usually just a piece of buttered toast or cold cereal…assuming she had any milk on hand.

"I was not sure how you liked your eggs, so I took the liberty of scrambling them," Erik continued to speak as he brought over two full mugs of steaming hot coffee.

"Scrambled is perfect," she informed him, taking her napkin and placing it in her lap.

"We also have toast, fruit…and bacon," he told her, lifting a small metal dome to reveal the sizzling pork strips. "I figured it was a safe bet that you were not a vegetarian…since I once saw you eat a hamburger at the restaurant during your dinner break."

"No…I'm not a vegetarian," she assured him, taking several of the delicious looking pieces of bacon onto her plate, along with a large spoonful of fruit and two pieces of toast.

"Ahhh, you _are_ hungry then?" Erik chuckled, helping himself as he watched her dig in. "Last night I began to fear I might have married a woman who ate like a bird. I much prefer to see you with a healthy appetite than foolishly starving yourself to enhance your figure…which is lovely just the way it is." Erik was attempting, in his own odd way, to compliment her, expressing his appreciation for her curves and healthy appearance. Yet when he saw her blush and look away, he decided that speaking of her body might not be the best way to begin a conversation…at least not at this early point in their relationship. However, try as he might, Erik could not think of anything else to discuss…her lovely face and form being the only subjects on his mind at the moment. Thankfully he was saved by Christine, who apparently _did_ have other things she wished to converse about.

"So…tell me, what do you have planned for today?" she inquired, savoring her third piece of the crunchy bacon.

"Nothing of importance. Just a few business meetings and a lunch date with a new client," He paused here and gave her a pointed look. "A _male_ client, in case you were wondering." Erik was not sure why, but he had hoped for some reaction from his wife, perhaps a look of jealousy? Still, Christine seemed more interested in the bacon than in him, thus he continued speaking. "After that, just tons of paperwork that will keep me tied up all day. You know what they say…no rest for the wicked _."_ Erik added a sly smile to his words, catching her eye over the rim of his coffee cup as he took a sip.

"Oh," she replied, quickly turning her attention back to her eggs and away from his heated gaze.

"Might there be a reason for your inquiry, or are you simply attempting to make conversation?" he asked, actually enjoying her apparent interest. Sitting here with her as they talked about their day seemed very mundane and ordinary…and Erik was loving every moment of it!

"May I ask…" Christine began, wondering if she were treading into any grey areas where the contract was concerned, "what is it that you do…I mean, what kind of business _is_ Phantom Industries?"

"A very successful one," Erik told her, a touch of pride showing in his tone. "I employ a little over seven-hundred people, with four-hundred and thirty seven of them working out of our building here in town. The rest are oversees, or in other offices around the country."

"That's…that's a lot of people," Christine said, sounding rather impressed. "But what do you _do_ there?"

"Quite a few things, actually, for we are not limited to manufacturing a single product, or providing a specific service," Erik explained, becoming more serious. "I have my fingers in a lot of different pies, so to speak, from marketing, real-estate, corporate take-overs, and bankrolling many other businesses, big and small. If I see profit in something, I tend to take an interest – whether by investing in a new idea, or buying up a failing company and turning it around."

"And is there a profit to be made in financing research centers…like Leathwood?" she pressed.

"No, there is not," he was forced to admit. "However, I admired the work they were doing and felt that funding them would be a wise investment in other ways, besides monetarily," Erik added, almost appearing embarrassed by his altruistic pursuits.

"And what about me? How shall _I_ be spending my day?" Christine asked as she finished up the last few bites of her delicious breakfast. "What do you expect me to do, now that I'm your wife?"

"Nothing, Christine," Erik insisted, setting his cup down and leaning back in his chair. "You are not my prisoner, nor my servant, and are free to go wherever, and do whatever, you wish. I only ask that you be home in time for dinner, which you and I will share in the dining room. Then, if you are feeling up to it, I would enjoy your company as we spend some time talking and telling each other about the day's events. I will be out of the house a good portion of the time and I certainly do not expect you to sit around here just waiting for my return. You may do as you please. In fact, I had thought you might wish to visit with your father this morning, so I told Gerald to make himself available to take you wherever you would like to go."

"Really?" she asked hopefully, feeling a bit of her worry melting away at his words. When she saw how he was about to respond, she held her hand up to stop him. "I know, I know…you never joke around. You're always deadly serious."

"I see you are catching on," Erik replied with a slight chuckle of amusement at her words.

"So will that be what I should expect for my life from now on?" she pressed, liking to have everything spelled out in detail, so there would be no more surprises…like sharing the bed last night. "Apparently, you have quit my job for me, and I'm sure the staff at Leathwood will not appreciate me hanging around from morning till night, so what else shall I do with my time?"

"What did you enjoy doing before your father's illness took over your life?" Erik asked thoughtfully.

"I…I loved to sing, and I was taking classes in musical theatre at NJCU," she revealed, feeling as if that had all taken place a lifetime ago. Singing and voice lessons had been her complete focus since high school, but the moment her father needed her, it was shocking how quickly she had given it all up. All the while doing her best to convince herself that singing at the restaurant would be enough to fulfill her need to perform. But she had been very wrong.

"Well, from what I could tell, you were a very dedicated student, since you sing beautifully," Erik complimented. "I very much enjoyed listening to you each night when you performed at the restaurant. However, now that you no longer have an outlet for your talent, might I suggest you think about returning to school? You could take some classes and further your education."

"But I can't afford the tuition," she blurted out, speaking before she had a chance to think about what she was saying. Her hand clamped over her mouth as she saw Erik's eyes narrow in frustration once more. She sure had a way of upsetting his apple cart…mostly without meaning to.

"Christine," he said with an exasperated sigh. "You need to stop thinking this way. You may have been hurting for money yesterday…but today is a whole new story. I promised that you would want for nothing…that includes money for school, if that is what you desire to do."

"I…I'll try and remember," she promised, knowing that it was going to take some getting used to. "And I _would_ very much enjoy taking singing lessons again. But I'm not sure anyone would admit me this late in the year."

"No need to worry," Erik told her, waving his hand in a casual manner. "You already have an interview scheduled at Juilliard this Monday at ten in the morning."

"WHAT?" she gasped, almost choking on the sip of coffee she had just taken. "Erik…this time you _must_ be joking!"

"Oh, my silly little wife…when will you learn?" he chuckled, apparently enjoying her disbelief this time. "I am not joking, and I have no doubt that once they hear you sing, you will be accepted immediately."

"But… _Juilliard?_ Do you know how many famous singers came out of that school?" Christine placed her palms against her now pale cheeks, trying to process what Erik was saying. "I…I wouldn't know what to do…or how to act! Besides, there's no possible way I could work up a decent audition piece before Monday! Oh, Erik…what have you done?"

"Calm yourself, Christine," Erik said with another heavy sigh, now wishing that there was not a solid piece of wood separating them, for he wanted nothing more than to take his distraught wife in his arms and soothe her. Although, in retrospect, this might only agitate her further. "You have nothing to worry about. You will walk in there with your head held high, act just like yourself - and no one else - and do splendidly. As for your audition piece, do not fear, I will assist you with that, assuring that you are more than ready by Monday."

" _You_ will help me? How?" Was Erik going to hire some expensive tutor to train her vocally? The idea was ludicrous, but suddenly Christine did not doubt that he very well might do exactly that.

"I will explain everything tonight when I get home," he informed her, finishing his coffee and standing up from the table.

Christine had always hated being kept in the dark and quickly opened her mouth to protest. Yet a stern look from Erik, along with his finger raised in a warning gesture, halted her words of objection.

"The plan I have come up with is very detailed, and I do not have the time to explain everything right now, Christine," Erik told her as he picked up both their breakfast plates and carried them to the sink, taking the time to rinse them off before stacking them neatly to be washed later. "Thus you must have to curb your curiosity until this evening."

Christine was still a bit upset over being put off, but from his words and actions she knew better than to argue with him. She would know his mind when he deemed it time to tell her. In the meantime, Christine found it bothered her to be waited on like this, used to taking care of herself, as well as those around her.

"I can wash my own dishes," Christine protested, scooping up the coffee cups and other utensils as she followed him to the sink.

"No, Christine, your days of busing tables are over," Erik informed her, shutting off the faucet and wiping his hands on a nearby towel. "You now have much loftier goals to pursue."

"But…how did you even know I would _want_ to go back to school? What if I'd said I had no interest in singing anymore?" she questioned, still amazed at how he apparently knew what she was thinking before even she did.

"From what I have observed of you, I was already quite certain of your response," Erik stated, looking extremely pleased with himself. "However, not to be caught unprepared, you are also currently enrolled in a cooking class, art lessons, a gardening program, and a defensive driving course."

"Well…aren't I the busy girl!" she responded, finding it all a bit overwhelming. "Why the driving course?"

"I once overheard you telling your workmate that you always wished you had learned to drive," he explained, feeling the need to justify his choice in activities. "That living in the city had never afforded you the opportunity to do so. I thought perhaps you might wish to learn such a skill, now that you have the time. Although there is not really a need for you to do so, I know how to drive very well, and Gerald will take you anywhere in the city you wish to go."

"Well…I'll have to think about it," she mused. City life had indeed never required her to learn to operate a vehicle on her own, and since she and her father had never owned a car, why bother? Buses and subways had always been her only mode of transportation, and up until now they had served her quite well. Still…it might be fun.

"Take your time in deciding, there is no rush," Erik shrugged, not at all concerned if she chose to take the classes or simply blow them off – the fees had already been paid but he couldn't care less if the money ended up being wasted. Christine was worth it. "Your things from your old apartment should be arriving sometime this afternoon, but Janet will be here to receive them if you choose to go out."

"Janet?" Christine questioned, not knowing who that was.

"The young lady who cleans the house," Erik explained. "She comes in around eleven and then leaves when Mrs. Murphy arrives at three, so you will not need to rush home. Take your time and have a nice long visit with your father." He then looked at the Rolex on his wrist and gave a tisking sound. "As much as I would love to stay and chat, I must be getting to work. It would certainly not do for the boss to be late…although, one might expect me to be a _bit_ tardy, seeing as how I was just married yesterday." He gave her a sly wink at his insinuations, but allowed no time for a response as he headed out the door and into the foyer.

Christine followed, watching as he reached for his tie, which was lying over his jacket on the back of a chair near the front door. Slipping it around his neck Erik began to tie it with amazing skill and speed, obviously having performed the task a million times before.

"Antoinette dropped off your purse this morning while you were still asleep," he told her, gesturing towards the long, thin table to the right of them. "You left it at the Pavilion last night and she felt you might have need of it today. I have taken the liberty of replacing your old phone with a newer model…the one you were using was positively primitive." Noting her look of shock out of the corner of his eye, he quickly added, "Don't worry, I transferred all your information and data over, as well as programmed the numbers you can reach me at as well. So if during the day you require anything, anything at all, please do not hesitate to call. I have also provided you with some cash and a credit card to use. You are a wealthy woman now, Christine, and I expect you not to be shy about purchasing something if it catches your eye."

At first Christine was extremely irritated that he had gone through her purse and phone, feeling like it was an invasion of her privacy. Yet a part of her wanted to giggle at the idea of him finding her emergency stash of feminine products in the zipper pouch; would Erik have been embarrassed? Knowing him…probably not. Still, she fought down her annoyance and chose to bite her tongue, not remarking on the offence.

"What time will you be…home?" she asked, stumbling a bit over the word and all it implied.

"I shouldn't be any later than five, but one never knows with New York traffic," he told her, grabbing his coat and a set of keys before heading for a door to the left of them. Not knowing what else to do, Christine followed once again, finding herself standing in the doorway to an oversized garage. She was shocked to see not one…but _three_ cars parked there, all polished so brightly she could see her reflection in them. She had never been good at identifying cars, but even she knew what a Ferrari, a Porsche, and a Jaguar looked like. A slight thrill ran through her as she wondered if Erik would ever let her drive any of them…assuming she passed the driving course he had signed her up for.

"Are these all yours?" Christine asked, stepping forward and running her fingers down the side of the sleek, black Ferrari in front of her. She was startled when he reached out and gently tipped her chin towards him, locking her in a captivating gaze.

" _Ours_ , Christine. The cars belong to both of us," Erik once again reminded her. "What's mine is yours, just as what's yours… _is mine."_

Christine could hear his possessive tone in his final words, reminding her all too well of her obligation to share with him the one and only thing he could never buy for himself. And yet, he apparently could - and did - for he had bought _her!_

Erik's actions and kind words this morning had managed to lull Christine into a false sense of comfort, causing her to temporarily forget all the things she had been forced into the day before. Suddenly the large diamond ring on her finger began to weigh heavy as a renewed sense of panic took hold. And as she stared up at the man she was now bound to, she realized that she needed to be far more careful around him than she at first anticipated. He was a danger, to be sure, and not just in a physical way, but to her innermost thoughts as well. Here was a man who took the business world head on, facing down financial moguls, and tearing their companies apart if that be his wish. So, what was one small girl's fragile mind to him? A plaything that he could manipulate simply with the tone of his voice? Christine felt a shiver run through her and she took a step back, pulling away from his fiery touch.

Erik saw the veil of fear falling over her eyes, and he cursed his foolish words. He had schooled his every action thus far, doing all he could to appear the benevolent husband and to put her at ease…until now. Yet it appeared he simply could not help it, for at times her beauty completely overtook him, driving him to release his baser instincts in the form of words. Thank goodness he was able to keep them from emerging as _actions_ …and yet, he knew he could not hold those in for too long either. Yet he had to try, and he could only hope that he would not be required to do so for very much longer.

"Well then, I am off," Erik announced, doing all he could to pretend the last few moments had not happened. He had been hoping to receive a goodbye kiss, as typical husbands were often gifted by a loving wife…yet apparently _that_ had been wishful thinking. Still, he would not give up on the possibility that one day things would change. After all, it was only the first day. With one final look, and a halfhearted smile, he opened the door and slid into the racy leather seat of the Ferrari, turning the key as the engine roared to life. With a push of a button the garage door opened, and Erik made his way out and down the driveway, doing all he could to force himself not to look back.

.

.

Christine stood there and watched as his car disappeared down the long, tree lined driveway. From her vantage point, looking out the garage door, she could see a bit more of the vast grounds of her beautiful new home. Yet the sight of the long black limousine parked in the circular driveway quickly captured her attention. Gerald had been leaning against the hood reading a newspaper, but when he saw her as well, he gave a friendly wave, letting her know he was ready whenever she was. This caused a smile to spread over Christine's face, dismissing the anxious feelings she had just been experiencing in exchange for ones of anticipation. She was going to see her father!

Giving Gerald a quick wave in return, she spun around and headed inside the house, just as the garage door began to automatically lower back down. Grabbing her purse and checking her hair, she headed for the front door. Christine was just about to pull it closed when she realized that if she locked it, she did not have any way of getting back in. However, a quick inspection of her purse assured her that Erik had thought of everything, as an unfamiliar set of keys was found tucked inside. Each was neatly labeled for her convenience: house, gate, garage, and even one that said it was for the mailbox…wherever that might be hidden. Shutting the door firmly behind her, Christine practically skipped towards the awaiting chauffeur.

Gerald was not a small man, in fact she thought he looked more suited for a job as a wrestler than a driver, but she was not about to judge. He had a bald head, though she got the impression it was more by design than typical hair loss, but he had a kind smile which did a lot to soften his almost threatening appearance.

"Where to, Mrs. Thorn?" he asked, opening the back passenger door so that she could get in.

Christine paused momentarily at hearing her new title spoken out loud by someone other than her husband. That was her name now, wasn't it? A brand new bride and one day soon…a mother! But she refused to think about such things right now. For all Christine wanted to do was go see her father, make sure he was being taken good care of, and forget all the rules and responsibilities that apparently came with her new name.

 _Well,_ she thought to herself, _I might indeed be Mrs. Christine Thorn, wife of the powerful and frightening Erik Thorn…but today I'm going to pretend that I'm still just plain old simple Christine Daaé!_

* * *

 **Oh, sweetie, in Erik's eyes you were never plain, old, or simple. You are his Angel of Music. ha ha. Might as well get used to it now.**

 **So, how did Erik do with his first morning as a husband?**

 **Sorry there was no waking up wrapped in each other's arms. WAY too soon for that. ha ha.**

 **Wow, Erik...you really know how to sign a girl up for a lot of classes! Julliard she is both happy and scared about, but the defensive driving class seemed to perk her interest, especially after seeing your fancy cars! Va-va-voom!**

 **Well, next we will see how her first day as Mrs. Thorn goes!**

 **See you Friday!**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:  
**

 **Guest:** Shocked you, did he? Yah, Erik is on the fast track to marital bliss...he just doesn't realize that not everyone travels at the same speed as him. ha ha. I do fancy the darker Leroux or Kay version of Erik, as opposed to the clingy Erik of Webber's making. I believe I said earlier that she was 23...yep, just went back and checked. He is 38, and she is 23. And while Christine is not naive...she is still innocent and uncomfortable with most of what Erik is proposing. Oh well, too late now, she signed. ha ha. Thanks!


	8. Chapter 8

.

 **It's FRIDAY!**

 **Now sit back...grab a snack...and let's see what might happen in _this_ chapter!**

 **Enjoy.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 8**

 **~X~**

* * *

The drive to Leathwood seemed shorter than last time, hardly leaving Christine enough time to figure out her new cell phone on the way. She managed to decipher the basic functions, how to make a call, take a photo, and access her call list…beyond that, it was all Greek to her. She would have to look online and see if there were any YouTube videos she could watch on how to figure out her new phone…for she refused to ask Erik to explain it to her. She may have sold that man her body, but she still had her pride!

Gerald dropped her off at the front door and told her he would park nearby and keep an eye out for her, that she only needed to wait on the steps and he would pull around. Since it was normal business hours she didn't need to use her key card, but she'd been glad to see it was still in her purse for when she might. The friendly woman at the counter waved hello as she passed, and Christine returned the greeting with a wide smile, doing her best to make up for her rude behavior yesterday.

It didn't take long to make her way to her father's room, finding him dressed and sitting in his wheelchair, securely strapped in for his safety. He had his head turned towards the window, and if she didn't know any better, Christine would have thought he was engrossed in watching a flock of birds flying outside. Susan was there as well, busying herself by tidying up the already immaculate room.

"Good morning, Christine," the kindly nurse greeted her. "Or should I say, _Mrs. Thorn?"_ The knowing wink and smile she gave her made Christine blush, realizing just what she must assume happened last night…but she was too embarrassed, as well as afraid, to set her straight. After all, Erik had warned her against divulging too much personal information about him, and as far as Christine was concerned, things didn't get any more personal than _that_! Thankfully Susan let the matter drop and continued on with a friendly air. "Your father had his breakfast a couple hours ago, but I was just about to go down to the kitchen and get him some pudding. However, I'm not sure what kind is his favorite?"

"Butterscotch," Christine informed her, touched that she would ask and not just give him whatever was on hand simply because he was unable to voice his preference. "But if they don't have that, he likes tapioca as well."

"Butterscotch?" Susan's face lit up in a big smile. "That's my favorite too! Perhaps I'll get one for myself, and he and I can have a pudding date." She leaned down so that her face was within his view. "How does that sound, Charles? Care to share a snack-pack with me?" When he did not respond - per usual - she just continued on as if he had. "I thought so. You really are a gentleman through and through, never an argument or a cross word." She then patted him on the arm and headed for the door. "You two have fun, I'll be back soon."

Now left alone, Christine suddenly felt shy, not knowing what to say. She had never felt awkward around her father before, and yet after what he had witnessed yesterday, she was certain he now harbored strong thoughts of disapproval. Well, there was nothing to be done for it. She was married and only death - or a breach of contract - would change that. So taking a deep breath and plastering on a fake smile, Christine headed over to where he sat.

"Good morning, Papa," she said, kissing his cheek as she pulled up a chair to sit beside him. "It's such a pretty day out, that I thought I might ask if I can take you for a walk in a bit. Summer will be here before we know it, but so far we're still having some very nice spring weather, so it should be a very pleasant temperature today. I know Susan probably wants to take you out herself, but I think I might be able to persuade her to allow me the honor." She leaned in a bit closer and added her next words in a stage whisper. "I'd watch out if I were you, Papa, I think she's kind of sweet on you. And as much as I like her, I'm rather fond of having you all to myself." She gave him a sly wink and laughed at her own joke, since no one else was there to do so.

She next discussed every little thing she could think of, from all the details of the mansion she was now living in – at least what she knew of it so far – to how frustrated she was with her new phone. Pulling it out and showing him just how much it resembled something from a Star Trek movie than what you might find at the local AT&T store. When at last she ran out of things to say, she fell silent, turning her head to stare out the window as she fought back the tears that threatened to fall. Finally, she gave up in defeat, letting them slip down her cheeks unchecked.

"I'm sorry, Papa," she told him, taking his hand in hers as she massaged it gently. "I know you must be terribly disappointed in me…but…but I'd do it all again in a heartbeat. Life has dealt us dirt, plain and simple, but I refuse to let it beat us! I've found a way to take back control, and turn things around!" Christine had not planned on talking about Erik when she came here today…figuring that was the last thing her father would want to hear about - but suddenly she could not shut up. "Erik is not as bad as he seems," she heard herself say, shocked by her own words. "Yes, he can be a bit…abrupt…and bossy…and utterly confusing, but I can't help but think that under all that he _is_ an honorable man…of sorts. At least I hope he is." She took a few moments to wipe her eyes, sniffing back her tears as she continued on. "And he has done some really nice things for me, Papa. Remember how I told you he made that man at the restaurant leave me alone? Even back then I thought that was a very gallant thing to do, something you only read about in stories these days." And it was true, that one act had left a lasting impression, and as Christine tried to put a pleasant spin on her current situation, she was finding it was not as hard as she thought. "And today he told me that he got me an interview at Juilliard! Can you believe it, Papa… _Juilliard!_ Just like you always wanted for me! I'm of course completely petrified that I'll fail, but Erik promises that he can get me ready in time. I'm not sure how exactly, but that's something I'm coming to learn about him…with Erik, you don't ask how… _he just does."_ Once more she leaned in, placing her face in her father's line of sight. "The bottom line is…I _want_ to do this." Christine was tired of feeling as if she were fighting a losing battle, watching the world constantly beat both her and her father down. It was nice to think of someone else looking out for them…for her, and if she had to give a little of herself in order to gain all that…then why not? "Please don't hate me for it, Papa. Please try and understand." Taking his limp hand she placed it on her cheek and shut her eyes, doing her best to recapture their many tender moments of the past. "I love you, Papa…so very, very much."

"I found Butterscotch!" Susan announced as she came back into the room, triumphantly waving a couple of pudding packs in her hand. "And just in case you were hungry too, Christine, I brought a third one as well." And to prove it, she pulled another sealed cup out of the large pocket on the front her scrubs top.

The nurse's good humor immediately lightened the mood in the room and caused Christine to smile once more. Soon they were talking, laughing, and eating pudding. Well, Susan and Christine were talking, while Charles was listening as both girls took turns spoon-feeding him his pudding. Once they were finished, Christine took him out for a walk around the grounds, marveling at the sheer magnitude of the place. It warmed her heart to know that he was being taken such good care of, and the more she saw, the more she knew she had done the right thing. She would gladly accept every scolding word from her father's lips over the whole marriage issue, just as long as he was able to yell at her personally. It would be music to her ears.

After lunch, which she once again was able to share with her father, since Susan ordered a second plate for her, Christine decided it was time to leave. She still wanted to go by the restaurant on her way home and explain things to Raffie, Maria, and the other girls in person. She could only imagine what kind of insanity they would think had come over her when she told them she had decided to get married on the spur of the moment. Christine blushed a little at the idea they might assume she had got herself in trouble, and _had_ to marry quickly. And while she was indeed in a heap of trouble, it was not of _that_ nature…at least not yet.

As she walked out to where Gerald had told her to wait, she passed through the lobby, absentmindedly glancing over at the people in the waiting area. There was an older man, with a loud flower-print purse resting on his lap, looking quite relaxed. Christine could only assume he was holding it for his wife, and that he had done so many times during their years of marriage. A few chairs away was a teenage boy, completely engrossed in a game on his smartphone, and for a moment Christine considered asking _him_ to explain the features of her new phone to her.

In the corner sat a pretty young mother jostling her baby on her shoulder in an attempt to keep it from crying, and from the exhausted look on her face, Christine could tell it was going to be a losing battle.

The last person in the room was a rather handsome looking man in his mid-forties, who appeared to be from the Middle East. His dark hair and mocha colored skin gave him a very distinguished air, one that would make any girl take a second look. He had a well-groomed mustache that reached down to a short beard on his chin, but it was his dark eyes that caught Christine's attention, for they seemed to be hiding a deep sadness behind them. As he sat there, absentmindedly flipping through a magazine, she found herself wondering if he was here with his wife…or some other loved one. It broke her heart to think that all these people might also be going through something similar to her, praying each day for a miracle that would bring those they cared about back to health. She silently wished them all good luck as she headed out the door.

True to his word, Gerald did not keep her waiting long and quickly drove around to pick her up. Once inside she gave him the address of the restaurant and off they went. Again she used the drive time to fuss and fume with her new phone, finally learning how to access the internet as well as her e-mail. Not that there were any new messages, but it was nice to know she could read them if she got any.

As she was swiping through folders and looking at things, she came across Erik's numbers… _five_ of them to be exact. Christine wondered if she should call him and tell him of her plans to visit the restaurant. Yet, with a shake of her head, she decided against it. If he was so keen on keeping her in the dark about _his_ plans for her singing lessons, then she was only too happy to return the favor. Let him just wonder where she was and what she was doing! Besides, he had told her she could go wherever she wanted, just as long as she was home in time for dinner. It was only a quarter to two now, leaving plenty of time before her imposed curfew, so why bother Erik with something as trivial as this? She was sure he was very busy and would thank her for not disturbing him.

.

.

Stuck in a very long and very boring meeting about possible investments, Erik took out his phone and checked it for the tenth time that hour. _Why had Christine not called?_ Had he not told her to ring him if she had any concerns…any at all? But apparently, he had married a very independent woman, one who did not appreciate him controlling her every move. He gave a heavy sigh and put his phone away, knowing he would check it again in just a few minutes.

Erik reached up and adjusted his mask a bit, feeling it bothering him more than usual today. It was undoubtedly from not having spent the night with his face uncovered, like he normally did when he slept. However, with his new bride sharing his bed, there was no way he would go without one and run the risk of her seeing what lay behind it. The last time he was unmasked and in bed with a woman had been an unmitigated disaster! He would not allow a repeat performance of _that_ nightmare…that was for damn sure.

All he needed to do was mind his Ps and Qs, control his temper, and not scare her too badly with his lustful stares - all the while hoping that she would stick to the contract. Erik knew Christine to be the honest and loyal sort, watching as she showed up for work every night with a smile, even though he could see she did not love her job. Maybe she would do the same for him? Willingly play the part of his wife with a smile on her face, even though she was doing so for reasons other than love. And while he knew that might be the best he could ever hope for, Erik still desired more. Not that he knew what it felt like, having never experienced love before…but he could imagine.

Closing his eyes, Erik pictured himself coming home from work, opening the door and announcing his arrival. Christine would emerge from one of the rooms and rush straight into his arms, giving him a welcoming hug and kiss. She would then lead him to where a table was set with dinner and candlelight, with the soft strains of some romantic song playing in the background. They would eat as a couple, sharing bites from each other's plates, while their hands and feet tantalizingly played under the table. When they were done, he would sweep her up in his arms and carry her to their room, laying her down across their bed and making the sweetest love to her over and over. Yes… _that_ was a dream worth fighting for!

"So what do you think, Mr. Thorn?" a voice asked, breaking into his lovely daydream. "Shall we implement the plan or do you wish to think it over?"

Erik opened his eyes slowly, focusing on the short man in the grey suit who had just interrupted his delicious fantasy. Shooting daggers at the man, he rose to his feet, causing the offender to take a step backwards in fear. Erik liked it when people cowered before him, it made him feel powerful, in control, and caused him to think less of what he hid behind his mask.

"I think…that this whole proposal is garbage!" he insisted in a commanding voice, having heard enough in the first five minutes to know that he would never agree to any of it. "Get rid of it all, write me up something more solid, something built on concrete evidence and not just mere speculation. If I am going to put my name on this…it had better be perfect and guaranteed to succeed." He then sat back down and waved his hand in the air. "Now…get out of my sight and don't come back until you have something that will please me."

A murmur of apologies and agreements accompanied the rattled man and his colleagues out the door, leaving Erik alone. Well…almost alone, for Antoinette had remained behind and was eyeing him suspiciously.

"For a man who apparently got everything he ever wanted last night, you sure seem in a foul mood today," she commented, standing up and collecting the folders that had been left on the conference room table.

"Christine hasn't called," Erik lamented, taking out his phone and checking it again. Next he adjusted the volume, afraid he might miss her if it was only on vibrate.

"And were you _expecting_ her to?" she asked.

"Not expecting…just…well, _hoping_ ," he muttered, acting like a petulant child.

Antoinette wanted to laugh out loud at his comment, thinking that in all her years of working for this man - this tyrannical, threatening, powerful man - this was the first time she had ever seen him pout. The next few months would either prove very entertaining …or deadly. Either way, it was something she did not want to miss.

.

.

Christine asked Gerald to park about a block away from their destination, not wanting Raffie or her workmates to see her getting out of a fancy limousine. She'd have a hard enough time clarifying her marital status without the added trouble of explaining the car and chauffeur waiting outside. She was not looking forward to this at all.

When he found a parking spot, Gerald came around to hold the door open. As she got out, Christine received a few looks from people passing by, but she did her best to ignore them.

"Would you like me to go with you, Mrs. Thorn?" he offered, eyeing the somewhat shady neighborhood.

"No, I'll be fine. And besides, I'll only be here a short while," she told him, heading off in the direction of the restaurant, already dreaming up what she would say. She had just rounded a corner when she realized that Raffie might need her new address in order to mail her final check. And while she knew she lived outside the city…Christine honestly had no idea where! So whirling around she headed back to ask Gerald to write it down for her. However, as she turned the corner once again, she plowed right into a man, hitting him so hard that she almost bounced off and fell down. Thankfully he reached out and grabbed hold of her upper arms, steadying her as he broke into a stream of apologies, his distinct accent sounding very pleasing to her ears.

"A thousand pardons, Miss," he said, releasing her and taking a step back as soon as she had regained her balance. "It was all my fault, I should have been paying better attention to where I was going."

"No, not at all, the blame is mine! I'm the one who changed directions without signaling first," she insisted.

"Are you sure you're all right? Perhaps we should exchange insurance cards," he teased back, his friendly nature causing her to chuckle. "You know, have your lawyer talk to my lawyer, and get this whole mess sorted out?"

"No, I don't think there was enough body damage to even bother with the deductible. What say we just call it even and write it off," she suggested with a laugh. "And next time I promise to look where I'm going."

"As will I," he said, giving her a wide smile. "Again, I do apologize. Good day, Miss." And with a respectful nod of his head, he continued on his way.

Christine chuckled once more as she walked back towards the limousine. She'd almost made it there when she suddenly realized she had seen that man before! He was the very same foreign fellow she had observed reading the magazine at Leathwood! How strange that she would run into him _twice_ in one day. And yet, stranger things had happened. One look at the huge rock on her left hand was proof of that!

After getting the address from Gerald, Christine finally arrived at the restaurant, still not at all sure what she would say. They had not opened for business yet, but she knew the side door would be unlocked to allow the employees to filter in. Part of her wanted to just turn around and leave, but she knew it was best to go in and get it over with.

To say that everyone was shocked to see her was an understatement, with several of the other waitresses staring at her in surprise. Raffie quickly spotted her slinking in, doing her best to appear calm and in control. She was apparently not a very believable actress.

"Christine! What the blue blazes is this I hear about you quitting?" Raffie asked, practically pouncing on her. "And to be informed of this by that Thorn guy's secretary no less…I thought you hated him?"

"Well…hate is a rather strong word," she began. "Apparently he also has some good qualities that I just never noticed before, that's all."

"Would those qualities just so happen to come with dollar signs in front of them?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest. "What did he do, Christine? Offer you the moon? Buy you a car? Fly you to Paris in his jet for dinner?"

"Let's just say that he made me an offer I couldn't refuse," she told him, cringing slightly as she lifted her left hand and let him see the ring that now rested there.

"YOU GOT MARRIED?" came the distinctive squeal from Maria as she rushed across the room. Grabbing her hand, she pulled it up to her face, getting a closer look at the rock one could easily see from space. "Who is he, Christine? What does he do? Why didn't you tell me? Does he have a brother?" she fired off her questions in rapid succession.

"She married Erik Thorn!" Raffie announced in a loud voice, looking none too happy.

"You what?" Maria gasped, dropping her hand in shock. "The masked mafia guy? Why on earth would you do that?"

"Well…he _asked_ me," was all Christine could think to say. "He said he wanted to take care of me…and my father." At this she could not keep up her pretense any longer and buried her face in her hands as the tears fell.

"Oh, honey," Maria crooned, opening her arms and offering her workmate her shoulder to cry on. "You did it for your father, didn't you?"

"The doctors were finally able to diagnose what he has…and there _is_ a cure…but there's no way I could ever afford his treatments on my own…not in a million lifetimes!" she explained through broken sobs. "I didn't know what else to do…and when Erik offered me everything on a silver platter…I took it. What choice did I have?"

"None, baby…none at all," Maria assured her, patting her back as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a tissue, handing it to Christine to wipe her eyes.

"Of course you had a choice!" Raffie spoke up, sounding appalled. "You could have told that creep to go take a flying leap, that's what you could have done! Just because he's rich, doesn't mean he can just swoop in and grab whatever he darn well pleases!" He then reached out and laid a hand on Christine's shoulder. "You could have come to me, Christine, instead of…of…going to such extremes."

"Oh, Raffie…you're so sweet to offer, but I would never ask you to risk losing the restaurant that way," Christine told him gratefully. "Besides, it's all done and over with. The wedding was yesterday. As of today I'm no longer Christine Daaé, but instead…Christine Thorn."

"And you didn't even invite me to the wedding?" Maria asked, sounding a bit hurt. "Just think of all the rich, hot men I could have met at your reception!"

"It was rather a spur of the moment thing," Christine laughed, knowing just how much Maria loved to party. "We only had three guests, and the only man there, besides the judge and the groom, was my father."

"Oh…well, was the judge hot?" she asked, looking hopeful.

"I didn't even notice," Christine admitted, recalling that at the time she had been far too distracted by the groom.

"Well, at least you're doing it for a good reason," Maria nodded, understanding Christine's motives better than most, seeing as how she had heard more about her father's condition than any other at work, including Raffie. "And come on, you have to admit that even with that mask covering his face, Erik Thorn is literally sex on a stick. I just hope he treats you good, and you know what you are getting yourself into."

"How _can_ she when the man is a veritable mystery?" Raffie insisted, still not ready to let this go. "He never gives interviews, he's shrouded in secrets, rumors about him being mixed up with nefarious people run rampant, and yet none of them can ever be confirmed or denied! What if Maria's right…what if he is mixed up with the mafia? I don't want to see you sleeping with the fishes, Christine!"

"Raffie, put a cork in it!" Maria chided him, putting her arm around her friend's shoulder to comfort her. "That was all just crazy talk on my part. Of course he is not some lowlife criminal…I mean, have you seen how he dresses? How he carries himself? Not to mention the way he tips? There's no way a mobster would drop that kind of money just for mediocre food and passable service."

"Hey!" Christine and Raffie protested at once, both offended by her insulting comment.

"I'm just saying, the man has class," Maria continued, ignoring their outburst. "Now, don't you worry about anything, girl. You got yourself a fine catch, and we're all rooting for you and your father. _Right, Raffie?"_ The last part was accompanied by a well-placed elbow to the ribs, signaling to the owner that he'd better agree.

"Yes…fine…I'm happy for you, Christine," he said with a heavy sigh. "I'm just still in shock is all, and we're going to miss you a lot…you were my best waitress after all."

"HEY!" Maria pouted, giving him an evil glare.

"You started it!" Raffie shot back.

This little bickering session had Christine laughing by now, enjoying the normalcy of life away from the hurricane that was now her husband. It was nice to let go, to enjoy herself without feeling the need to look over her shoulder to see who might be watching.

"Maybe I should go now and let you two work this out on your own," she told them, leaning in to give Maria a hug, followed by one for Raffie. "I'll miss you two very much, and I promise to keep in touch." She pulled out the paper she had written her new address on and handed it to her former boss. "You have my cell number, but here's where I'm living now. If Erik and I ever throw any fancy parties, I'll be sure to suggest having it catered by you," she promised. "Now I better go, it's getting late and Erik expects me home for dinner." With one last lingering smile, she turned and headed out the door, waving to everyone as she left.

"Do you really think she'll be all right?" Raffie asked once Christine was out of sight.

"I have no idea," Maria confessed. "I only said all that to make her feel better…no sense in sending the poor thing to the gallows on a sad note. Christine has enough troubles without us adding to them."

"I just hope she knows what she's doing," he said, giving a heavy sigh before heading back to the kitchen.

"Me too," Maria whispered. "Me too."

.

.

Once outside Christine leaned against the side of the brick building and closed her eyes with a sigh. One more chapter of her life had come to a close. And while she would miss the people she worked with, she found it had not been hard to say farewell to the job itself. The singing aspect had helped make it bearable, but now that she had Juilliard to look forward to…well, it was time to turn the page and move on.

Opening her eyes, Christine pushed off from the wall and began to walk back to the limousine, when an abrupt movement to the right captured her attention. Turning quickly she caught a glimpse of someone just as they darted behind a large delivery truck. Her eyes grew wide as she realized it had been the very same man she had seen at Leathwood _and_ run into around the corner! Was he following her? Was he out to harm her…or maybe even kidnap her? After all, what was it Erik had said… _she was a very wealthy woman now!_

Suddenly frightened out of her wits, Christine practically ran back to where Gerald was waiting, wishing that she had taken him up on his offer to walk with her. When she got near the car, Christine slowed her pace and did her best to act calm, not wanting to upset the man when it could very well be nothing at all. Still…it was just enough of an odd coincidence that she felt it was worth telling Erik about. She gave a nervous laugh as she watched the bald-headed driver exit the car and open the door for her. Erik _had_ requested that they share the events of their day over dinner…and tonight he was in for a humdinger.

* * *

 **Oh, my...who could THAT be? And what will Erik have to say about it?**

 **And if you were wondering, no...Raffie does NOT have a crush on Christine or anything, he is just a concerned friend.**

 **Looks like Erik was in a bit of a snit that Christine didn't text or call him all day long. Come on, girl, it's the little things that will make Erik's day. But in her defense, she is still learning how to use her new phone. ha ha.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest:** You are captivated huh? Good, that was my diabolical plan all along! Just don't chew your leg off trying to get out of my literary trap. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Emmy6:** Oh, come on, Erik's not THAT bad...he's just drawn that way. ha ha. He will lighten up as time goes on. And nope, Christine is not the 'lustful' type. That is not to say she is blind or stupid either, but she won't just drop at his feet or anything either. She's a modern woman! And she will do her fair share of fighting back and standing up for herself. Erik has met his match! Thanks.


	9. Chapter 9

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 **Monday has arrived...and with it another work week, (grumble, grumble) but hopefully this will soften the blow.**

 **Now, let's go see how Amir fits into all this.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 9**

 **~X~**

* * *

By the time Gerald got Christine home, it was almost four-thirty, traffic having been bumper to bumper most of the way. She was glad they were not late though, having no idea how Erik would have reacted to coming home and not finding her there. However, she supposed if he was truly worried, he could have texted or called to inquire of her whereabouts.

As she climbed out of the limousine, Christine thanked Gerald for his services, and headed up to the door, her keys in hand. Yet before she could fit it in the lock, the door swung open and a tall, thin woman with her gray hair in a neat bun, greeted her with a smile.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Thorn!" she said, standing back to let the speechless woman inside. "I was looking out the kitchen window when you pulled up and just couldn't wait to meet you. I'm Mrs. Murphy, the cook. My first name is Laura, but Mr. Thorn prefers to keep things on a more professional level."

"Well, I do not!" Christine insisted, instantly liking this woman very much. "If you would allow me to call you Laura, I would be most pleased if you'd refer to me as Christine."

"I'm not sure what Mr. Thorn would say about that," she said in a skeptical voice. "Maybe it's best that we stick to his way of doing things, I've learned over the years that he's not one who enjoys change…unless he's the one instigating it." She then leaned in and gave the younger girl a sly wink. "But I suppose when we're alone, it wouldn't hurt to speak more freely."

"He's not here now is he?" Christine asked, half expecting him to magically appear simply because they were talking about him.

"No, he's not home from work yet," Mrs. Murphy told her. "And a good thing too, for I'm a bit behind with dinner. I was counting on a timely grocery delivery today, but young Peter was running late. So if I don't hurry up, you two might not be eating on time."

"Is there anything I could help you with?" Christine offered, not wanting the kindly woman to get into trouble.

"Heavens no, child," Mrs. Murphy laughed good-naturedly. "I have it all under control, but I do need to get back to it. Like I said, I just couldn't wait to meet you! After all, most of us never imagined that the boss would ever get married…and then suddenly, here you are! You must be something very special to have turned Mr. Thorn's head so quickly."

"I…I don't know about that," Christine blushed. Oh, if only Mrs. Murphy knew the truth, that this whole marriage was nothing more than a sham, a carefully laid out plan that would provide Erik with an heir.

"Well I do!" she said with a smile. "I've been cooking for that man for half a dozen years now, and I've never seen him as excited as he's been over the past few weeks. When he told me he was moving out of his sky rise apartment and buying this mansion, I was shocked. Yet, as he said, the city is no place to raise a family, and I tend to agree. Mr. Murphy and I had five little ones of our own, and I can assure you, children need fresh air and a place to run around where they don't have blacktop beneath their feet. So, whatever you might think…I _know_ you'll be good for the boss." She suddenly looked at her watch and gave a bit of a squeak. "Mercy me, I really need to stop yammering on and get back to work. You'll be having Alaskan salmon tonight, I hope that meets with your approval."

"It sounds delicious," Christine assured her, unable to remember the last time she had been able to afford a decent fillet of the expensive fish.

"Excellent, well, I'm off," she turned to head back to the kitchen when she stopped and gestured towards the large sitting room with the French doors. "You had a whole bunch of boxes delivered today, and since I didn't know where you wanted them, I told the men to put them in there. If they're in your way, I'm sure I could get Gerald to schlep them around for you. That man has arms the size of trees!"

"Yes, he does," Christine laughed. "One would think he learned to drive without the benefit of power steering or something."

"Or something," Mrs. Murphy replied, rolling her eyes as she waved goodbye and disappeared into the kitchen.

.

.

Christine busied herself for the next forty-five minutes digging through her belongings, noting that every item had been carefully packed, each treasure encased in enough bubble-wrap to make a bed out of. The idea of laying it all out and climbing on top of it appealed to her, yet she was quite certain if she attempted something so childish, that would be the exact moment Erik would return home and catch her. No…better to just pop a few of the fun bubbles with her fingers and call it a day.

She had barely finished her juvenile thought when a deep, but melodious voice spoke from behind her, causing Christine to jump slightly and spin around.

"Having fun?" Erik asked, thoroughly enchanted by the sight of his wife knee deep in bubble wrap with a happy smile on her face.

He had stood there for several minutes after arriving home, leaning against the door jamb, his suit jacket slung over his shoulder and suspended by one finger, while his tie hung loosely around his neck. It had been a long, hard day…made even more so by the almost aching need he felt to get home as quickly as possible. Erik was glad he had chosen the Ferrari today, for he was able to zip through traffic in no time at all, causing everyone around him to look as if they were standing still. And here he had found Christine, opening up boxes and unwrapping each item as she inspected and caressed it, apparently enjoying her little trips down memory lane.

"Oh…hello," Christine stammered, suddenly back to feeling unsure and uncomfortable in his presence.

"You are welcome to display any of your treasures as you wish," he offered, gesturing around the room. "There are still plenty of empty spaces throughout the house, and if you require more area, I am certain I could find you a suitable curio cabinet."

"Thank you…I _would_ like to put a few of these out," she nodded, once again shocked, and touched, by his generous offer. "They remind me of happier times with my father, before he…well, you know," she whispered sadly, looking down at the clock in her hands.

"Did everything arrive in good shape?" Erik asked, doing his best to divert her from her sorrow. Tossing his jacket over the back of a nearby chair, he approached her at a steady but languid pace. "Nothing broken, I hope."

"No, so far everything's in perfect condition." Christine then got an almost frantic look on her face as she began to hurriedly open the next box, and then the next, apparently desperate to find something. "But really, there's only one thing I truly care about and could never replace….there it is!" she cried out with a sigh of relief, lifting a carefully wrapped object from the third container she had searched though. Walking over to the sofa, Christine sat down and slowly began to unwrap it, causing Erik to curiously follow her lead and sit down in the chair across from her. "It's my father's pride and joy…aside from me of course, or so he would say," she laughed as she revealed an old beat up violin case.

As Erik watched her, noting the almost reverent way she handled the thing, he wondered just what type of man would keep his instrument in such a shabby case. Yet almost as if she read his mind, Christine's next words answered his question.

"My mother gave him this case on their first anniversary, and even though it's seen better days, Papa swore he would never part with it," she explained, speaking as if she had completely forgotten that anyone else was in the room.

Erik was forced to catch his breath as she opened it, affording him a view of the magnificent violin inside. It was obvious that Charles Daaé knew his craft, and had taken excellent care of the instrument, the older piece looking almost brand new…but Erik knew better.

"That is a Hofner," he told her, sounding rather impressed.

"Yes…it is." Christine was shocked that he would recognize who had made it simply by sight. "How'd you know?"

"I am a bit of a musical enthusiast," Erik admitted, reaching out questioningly. "May I?"

Still completely stunned, yet seeing no harm in letting him touch her father's most prized possession, Christine passed it over. By the way he handled it, taking hold of it by the scroll and beneath the chin rest in an almost reverent fashion, she could tell that he did indeed know something about musical instruments. Something he confirmed by his next words.

"Karl Hofner was a master violin maker from Germany during the late 1800s," Erik rattled off as he turned it over in his hands, inspecting each part. "This is a beautiful piece, and your father took excellent care of it."

Of course Christine knew all this, having been well versed in the history of the violin from an early age, yet she certainly hadn't expected Erik to know such things.

"I was thinking of taking it down to Leathwood and putting it in my father's room…after he begins to recover, that is," she told him, every word filled with hope. "Seeing it every day might give him more incentive to get better, so he can play it again."

"That is a lovely idea," Erik agreed, gently handing it back to her. "Music does have the power to inspire, as well as motivate. I think it would do him good to have a reminder of his past with him. But in the meantime, I have the perfect place of honor for it to rest…may I show you?" He stood up and offered her his hand, waiting anxiously to see if she might take it.

Christine was surprised to realize that she had almost been enjoying herself, sharing a nice conversation about a subject that was not only of interest to them both, but brought back such lovely memories for her as well. Yet when he held out his hand, the gold wedding band on his finger caught the rays of the setting sun, instantly reminding her that they were not just some couple talking about violins… _they were husband and wife_. Erik had touched her several times over the last twenty four hours, so really, this was not new territory, but it somehow felt like it was. Thankfully, Christine was spared having to respond to his request as Mrs. Murphy entered the room, drying her hands on a kitchen towel.

"Good evening, Mr. Thorn," she greeted. "If you and the Mrs. are ready, dinner is now served in the dining room." Her smile slowly faded as she saw the way the two of them were staring at each other without speaking. "Ummm, I'm sorry…did I interrupt anything?"

"No…nothing that can't wait until later," Erik spoke up, letting his hand drop back to his side as he turned towards the older woman. "We will be right in, thank you, Mrs. Murphy."

With a nod of compliance, she disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving them alone once more.

"We can continue this conversation after dinner," Erik informed her, gesturing with his hand towards the door that she knew led to the dining area. "Shall we? Mrs. Murphy's food is quite delicious, but even she will admit that a cold dinner, even of her own making, is hardly palatable."

"Yes…of course," Christine nodded, setting her father's violin on the coffee table and rising to her feet. In order to make her way to the dining room, she had to walk uncomfortably close to Erik, but she managed to do so without brushing against him or touching him in the slightest. And as she hurried through the door, Christine breathed a sigh of relief that she had placed a bit of distance between them, yet she could feel his steely eyes boring a hole in the back of her head.

.

.

Dinner was a welcome distraction, limiting their conversation to comments on the food or the room's decor. It was a lovely place to take their meals, the long table big enough to seat eight, but she could see that it had the capability of expanding to accommodate at least twelve, with the quick insertion of a few wooden leaves. There was an antique looking chandelier overhead that lit up the room and caused a very warm glow to be cast on the bone china plates. The food was indeed delicious, and Christine made a point to compliment Mrs. Murphy several times as she came to clear the dishes and serve the small dessert.

"Yes, Mrs. Murphy, dinner was excellent as usual," Erik told her, finishing off his glass of wine.

"I just need to stick these in the dishwasher and I'll be done for the evening. Would you care for anything else before I go? Some after dinner coffee perhaps?" she asked, skillfully juggling all the dishes in her capable hands.

"No, that will be all for tonight," he insisted.

"Very good, Mr. Thorn," she nodded, giving Christine a warm smile. "Have a pleasant evening." And off she went.

As Christine tasted the small dish of crème brûlée, closing her eyes as the sweet confection melted in her mouth, Erik chose that moment to break the silence.

"So, how was your day?" he asked, leaning back in his chair as he watched her carefully. "I must assume you kept yourself very busy…since you never called."

Christine could hear a touch of hurt in his words and she wondered if perhaps she should have taken a moment to let him know what she had been up to. Yet that little fire of defiance still held firm, and she refused to feel guilty over choosing not to.

"I might have called if it hadn't taken me all day to figure out how to work my new phone," she stated, setting her spoon down as she looked directly at him. Still, his question did remind her of the one odd thing that happened, and she felt that now was as good a time as any to broach the subject of her potential stalker. "And yes, I _was_ busy. I went to see my father, and then I had Gerald drive me to the restaurant so I could speak with my boss."

"Your _former_ boss," Erik reminded, not wanting her to get any ideas about continuing her employment.

"Yes…of course," she nodded, having to force herself to not roll her eyes at his authoritarian attitude. "I gave them my address so that they could send me my final check. I have no intentions of working there any further. Yet…something happened today that I think you should know about."

"Oh?" From the look in her eyes, Erik could tell that whatever it was had her a bit rattled, and he was immediately on high alert. "And what was that?"

"When I was at Leathwood, I saw a man sitting in the waiting room reading a magazine," she began.

"Well, that sounds harmless enough," Erik commented, feeling a bit of tension ease from his shoulders. "Unless of course you found the magazine offensive…or the man did something to upset you in some way."

"No, the magazine was fine, and the man was just sitting there reading," she assured him, starting to think her whole story was sounding a bit foolish. "But later, when I was walking to the restaurant, I ran into him again. _Literally!_ I slammed right into him, and if he hadn't reached out and grabbed me, I'm certain I would have fallen down."

"He grabbed you?" Erik sat straight up, not liking the sound of this at all! "You allowed this man to touch you?"

"Just to keep me from falling," she quickly told him. "He did it strictly out of kindness. But I found it very strange that I should see the same man twice in one day. And then, when I came out from speaking with Raffie and Maria, I saw him a third time across the street. It might be just a very odd coincidence but…well, I thought I should tell you about it, just in case."

Before she had even finished speaking, Erik had reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, tapping out a quick text message.

"Oh, I'm sorry…" Christine huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and staring at him with a look of disbelief. "Am I boring you with my story?"

Erik swiftly finished and put his cell back in his pocket, returning his full attention to Christine.

"No, of course not. Please continue," he told her, acting as if he had been listening the whole time. "And what did this man look like?"

"Well, he was tall…" Christine went on, choosing to overlook his rude behavior, "and he had dark hair and dark eyes. He also had a mustache that kind of went down into a short beard on his chin, like this," Christine used her fingers to demonstrate on her own face about how it looked. "And while I'm not that great with ethnic backgrounds, he kind of looked like he might have been from the Middle East or something."

"I see, and you said you spotted this man _three_ times today?" Erik pressed, seemingly much more relaxed than he had been a few moments ago.

"Yes…but we only spoke the one time," she confirmed, very confused by Erik's reaction to all this. Yet when there came a quick knock at the dining room door, followed by it being opened, she gave a gasp of shock.

"You wanted to see me?" asked the very man she had just been describing. When Erik gestured in the affirmative, he calmly stepped into the room and waited patiently.

"THAT'S HIM!" Christine cried, pointing at the man. "That's who's been following me!"

"Yes, it would appear so," Erik nodded, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "Which leads me to wonder if I'm overpaying you, Amir, for I distinctly told you to be stealthy in your observations. Yet here I am told that you were spotted three times…and on the first day no less! How very disappointing."

"WHAT? You…you _knew_ he was following me?" Christine sputtered, looking from her husband to the foreign man and then back again. "You _paid_ him to spy on me?"

"And it appears I am being grossly overcharged too," Erik said with a huff. "Christine here says she spotted you on three separate occasions today, and you broke the cardinal rule when tailing someone, by speaking to your target."

"That wasn't my fault," the man named Amir told Erik. "She changed directions right after turning a corner, coming back so quickly that we plowed right into each other. What was I supposed to do, just let her fall down and run?"

"Of course not! Yet if you were as good as you keep insisting, then none of _this_ would have happened in the first place. Oh, well, what's done is done," Erik said with an exasperated sigh. "At least I won the bet…I believe you now owe me a hundred dollars."

"A bet? Cardinal rules… _your target_?" Christine's mind was swimming, unable to make heads or tails of anything they were saying. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"

"Please calm yourself, Christine," Erik soothed, seeing that she was becoming highly agitated. "I simply assigned my associate, Amir Dessan, the duty of keeping tabs on you for safety reasons. It was his job to follow you around and make sure that no one bothered you while you went about your day. Yet, knowing you as well as I do, I made a gentleman's wager with him, stating that you would easily notice him doing so before the end of the first week. Your keen powers of observation have exceeded even _my_ expectations."

"I'm truly sorry for running into you the way I did today, Mrs. Thorn," Amir apologized, stepping closer as he removed his wallet and calmly handed Erik the money he owed him. "And while I harbor no hard feelings for causing me to lose the bet, I will admit it's a blow to my ego that you spied me so many times this quickly."

Christine sat there with her mouth open and just stared at the two men before her, not knowing what to say in a situation like this. Not only had she been worried all afternoon for nothing, she just learned that Erik had hired a man to spy on her…and then made a bet concerning her ability to notice? Oh, this was going too far!

"HOW DARE YOU!" Christine fumed, standing up and throwing her napkin down on the table in a huff. "I can't believe you would do something like this…no, wait…YES, I CAN! Well let me tell you something, Erik Thorn, I am not your pet, or some kind of object! I'm a human being and I deserve more consideration than this! What else do I need to worry about? Cameras in my bathroom, listening devices in the car? Will you be LoJacking my cell phone next?" When Erik looked away in an almost guilty fashion, she literally exploded. "YOU TRACKED ME WITH MY PHONE? No wonder you considered my old one out of date, it didn't allow you to follow my every move, did it? This is just outrageous! I can't even…you are so…. arrrrgggggg!" she cried, unable to articulate any words to describe how angry she was at that moment. She had to get out of there…NOW! So whirling around, Christine stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her as she went.

.

.

Erik and Amir were left behind in stunned silence, both men feeling as if they had been verbally slapped in the face. Finally Erik spoke.

"Well…that did not go well," he said with a heavy sigh.

"And you somehow expected that it would?" Amir asked, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Erik with a raised eyebrow. "How many women do you know who enjoy the idea of being spied upon? That's the whole reason restraining orders were invented, Erik."

"I had every intention of telling her about you…in a few days' time, when she had begun to feel a bit more comfortable with her new situation." Erik gave Amir a narrow eyed stare. "This is all _your_ fault for messing up and getting caught!"

"No, this is _your_ fault for not doing the smart thing and talking to your _wife!"_ Amir fired back, not intimidated in the least and willing to speak his mind. "The girl has a point, you can't treat her like a piece of property and expect her _not_ to get upset by it. Which, by the way, proves that _I_ was right, and you now owe _me_ the same hundred dollar bet. I told you that she would get ticked-off if she found out what you were doing behind her back." He then held out his hand, waiting with a satisfied grin until Erik placed the money back in his palm. "Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I had some water boiling on the stove for Mac and Cheese when you texted. And you," he said, pointing a finger at Erik, "better get your miserable hide up those stairs and tell your new bride that you're sorry for being an ass. And if you know what's good for you, you'll put some effort into it and truly apologize…not simply trying to bully her into forgiving you. Say the words, Erik, _and mean them!"_

"Shut up and get out before I am forced to hurt you," Erik hissed, turning his head away in an effort to ignore the man.

"Whatever," Amir sighed, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "I'll see you in the morning. I hope you take my advice, old friend." And tucking his money into his shirt pocket, Amir left the room.

Erik sat there, stewing over what both Amir and Christine had just said. He didn't like any of it. In his mind he did _not_ view Christine as a pet…or as his property! Well…perhaps according to the parameters of the contract he could tell her how to dress, where to go, and what she should, or should not, talk about…but she was not an _object_ to him! She was Christine… _his wife!_

Granted, Erik had never had a wife before, and felt woefully uneducated in the way he was supposed to be treating her. He had no firsthand knowledge on that subject, relying on books and television for information about the inner workings of a family relationship. That was another reason he had insisted on the contract, being more familiar with business dealings than emotional ones. A contract just seemed the most logical way to ensure that both parties were happy. Unfortunately, Christine did not appear to be very _happy_ at the moment. No, not happy at all.

He needed to repair the situation…quickly!

So, with a deep sigh, he rose to his feet and made his way up the stairs in hopes of fixing the mess he had foolishly created.

 _Erik really hated it when Amir was right!_

* * *

 **I think Erik might hate it, but WE LOVE IT. Go Amir, you tell him how it is. And don't let him threaten you like that...stand up to him...show him who's boss. Oh, wait, it looks like he is. BUT you got your $100 back!**

 **Hmmm, Christine didn't take that very well, did she? He's gunna have to do some major kissing up to make things right.**

 **So now you met Mrs. Murphy. She's nice.**

 **Did you like the way Erik impressed her with his musical knowledge? I'm sure he's got more things up his sleeve that will impress her.**

 ***pop, pop, pop* Bubble wrap anyone?**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Hmmmm, where have all my guest reviewers gone? Did you all get accounts and are reviewing that way? I miss you. :o(**

 **Emmy6:** I'm very sorry you are not enjoying my story or the way the characters are behaving. Not every story is for every reader. ha ha. Please do not feel you need to continue on if it is not to your liking, no hard feelings, and life is too short to waste on reading stories you don't enjoy. Thanks for your time.


	10. Chapter 10

.

 **BONUS chapter...but don't be expecting them EVERY Wednesday. ha ha**

 **Let's see how Erik grovels.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 10**

 **~X~**

* * *

Christine sat in front of her dressing table in her private bathroom with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. She had no idea where to go when she stormed out of the dining room, but since this was the only place in the house that belonged solely to her, it was where Christine had ended up. She had yet to check out any of the other rooms, and going outside had not occurred to her until she was already at the top of the stairs. So here she came, here she sat, and here she sulked.

 _Damn him!_ How dare he have her followed all day like some wayward child who couldn't be trusted to look both ways before crossing the street! If this was how Erik Thorn thought a marriage went, then he had another think coming!

When she heard footsteps approaching the door, and a soft knock, she turned her head and stared daggers at it, just daring him to try and enter without her permission.

"Christine?" Erik spoke from behind the barrier. "Will you please come out so we can talk?"

"No!" came her one-word answer.

"I realize you are upset, but would it not be best to sort this out now?" he continued.

"Go away! I'm not speaking to you!" Christine yelled back.

"Yet it would seem that you are, since you just told me to go away," Erik pointed out.

"That doesn't count," she huffed, then realizing she had just spoken again, she quickly added. "And neither did that! Now stop confusing me and go away!"

"If you will not come out, then I will be forced to speak to you through this door, and I imagine that would appear rather foolish," he told her.

"Then it will match you perfectly!" she spat back.

"Christine, open the door." Here he paused, adding one final thought in hopes that it might motivate her. "You can't hide in there forever you know."

Did Erik think she was _hiding_ from him? She was mad as hell, and had no problem telling him so directly to his masked face! So with a growl of frustration, Christine rose from her seat and stormed to the door, throwing it open in a huff.

"WHAT!" she demanded.

"Would you care to sit down, so we may speak like civilized individuals?" he offered, gesturing to the chair on her side of the bed.

Again, Christine stomped over and flopped down, crossing her arms and staring out the window, purposefully avoiding looking at him. Childish perhaps, yet isn't that how _he_ had been treating her…like a child?

Erik stood there silently, his hands behind his back as he watched her carefully. She still seemed rather angry, but then again, what did he expect? Amir said he would have to apologize if he wanted her forgiveness and from what he saw, it appeared he was right. _Here goes nothing…or everything,_ Erik told himself with a heavy sigh.

"Christine…I would like to tell you that I am deeply sorry for not having spoken to you in advance about assigning Amir to follow you around." There, he'd said it. And surprise, surprise…he had not died from the experience. Yet the question was…did it work?

"So…you're only sorry that you got caught without telling me…but not for _doing_ it?" Christine clarified, turning her angry eyes towards him.

"I am _not_ sorry for doing it, thus I see no need to apologize for that," he told her, now crossing his own arms in defense. "I will concede that the honorable thing would have been to tell you about it first, but you were already quite overwhelmed with everything else that was going on, I did not wish to add to your burdens…at least not right away. However, we live in a dangerous city, Christine, and now that you are attached to me, you could easily become a target for robbery, or possible abduction, in order to get money out of me. I deeply regret putting you in such a position, but that is why I hired Amir. To see that these things do not happen and that you need never live in fear."

"I spent half the day afraid that _he_ was after me! If your intention in hiring him was to bring me peace of mind…you failed!" she yelled, recalling that feeling of dread she had been harboring most of the day.

"If Amir has offended you, I will be happy to employ someone else to guard you," he offered.

" _He_ didn't offend me… _you_ did!" Christine cried, throwing her hands up in the air. "Don't you understand that? I might not have read that blasted contract word for word, but nowhere did you mention to me that I would be followed around all day, every day, by some bodyguard. I did _not_ agree to that!"

"Christine," Erik said, beginning to understand her objections at last, yet knowing that there was no way he would budge on this point, "I am very sorry that you were upset like this." He slowly walked over to take a seat on the bed, in order to be closer to her. "But I must insist that you allow me to provide you this form of protection. With money and power come privileges, but also an equal amount of danger. What kind of husband would I be if I did not do everything in my power to guarantee your safety? As much as I would like for it to be possible, I cannot be with you at all times, and while at the moment Amir's qualifications appear in question, he _is_ my most reliable employee and I trust him with my life…and in extension, yours as well. I know you are angry with me for not sitting down with you and speaking about this beforehand, and for that I can only continue to apologize and promise it will not happen again. However, I will _not_ be swayed in this matter. Your welfare comes first."

Christine stared at him, searching his eyes for any sign of deception, yet Erik seemed genuinely repentant, giving no indication of playing false. And if she thought about it from his point of view, he did imagine he was doing a good thing, just going about it all wrong…in typical male fashion. Christine supposed having a bodyguard was not the worst thing in the world, and if this Amir Dessan fellow chose to keep his distance, what harm was there? Especially when she recalled the fear she had felt when she thought she _was_ being followed…it was not something she wanted to experience again.

"Fine," she said with a sigh of resignation. "I'll allow the body guard thing! But you have to promise that you'll not hold back vital information like this from me again. Understand?"

"I swear that if it is something that directly concerns you or your safety, I will notify you immediately," he assured her, raising his right hand in a gesture of confidence.

"The smart thing would have been to promise you would speak with me about _everything_ , if it concerns me or not," she pointed out, not liking the fact that his wording excluded a great deal of other things she might wish to be told about.

"No, that would have been foolish, for I am not always at liberty to notify you of everything that you might deem important," he corrected. When he saw her eyes narrow into distrustful slits he quickly added, "Yet, I will endeavor to do my best to keep you informed when at all possible. I have no intention of holding things back from you just for the sake of doing so, I will only do it to protect you. Is that acceptable?"

"I suppose it will have to be," Christine agreed, realizing that was probably the best she was ever going to get. "So, Mr. Dessan will be my shadow then, following me everywhere… _even home it would seem?"_

"When I bought this place, I offered Amir the guest house located on the other side of the garage," Erik explained, realizing how it must have looked when the Persian had shown up so quickly in the dining room after being texted. "I rely on Amir to offer security for the house and property as well, so he monitors the grounds from there. He and Gerald are the only two employees I have who live on site, whereas Mrs. Murphy, Janet, and the gardeners commute."

"I see. I suppose that makes sense," she nodded, understanding that having his driver _and_ her bodyguard close by would be most efficient. "And where does Gerald stay?"

"He too has a small guest house, down the driveway and to the left," Erik informed her. "It is far enough away to ensure our privacy, as well as his. You need not worry. As for Amir, he will keep his distance, not interfere with your daily business, and I will strongly encourage him to be far more discreet than he was today," Erik assured her. "You will of course be guaranteed your privacy at all times, he will not be following you into the lady's room or anything like that. In most cases you will not even know he is there, however, once you are safe inside our home, or accompanied by me, his services will be concluded for the day." Erik stood up and took a position in front of her, his hands behind his back in a repentant manner. "I have no wish to upset you, Christine, and I recognize the mistakes I have made thus far. I will endeavor to not repeat them again. I offer you my sincerest apology." He was silent for a moment, waiting for her to respond. When she said nothing, he tentatively added. "Are we good then? Have I been effectively forgiven for my non-communication blunder?"

After staring at him for a few moments longer, and giving it a great deal of thought, she gave a reluctant nod.

"Yes…I suppose you're forgiven," Christine agreed, uncrossing her arms and relaxing somewhat. She hated feeling upset, and since Erik had done a pretty fair job of apologizing, she figured harboring a grudge would only give her an ulcer in the long run.

"Wonderful," he replied, a relieved smile touching his lips. "And now that we are back to being amiable, how about I show you just where you may store your father's violin? Until you wish to take it down to him at Leathwood, that is." Once again he extended his hand to her, offering his assistance in rising.

Christine was just as hesitant as earlier, her mind churning over all the implications accepting his offered touch might bring. And yet, they had come a long way in the last few minutes. You might even say they had had their first fight as a married couple! Christine knew they were bound to have many more, yet from the way Erik had stepped up and immediately apologized…she began to think that _maybe_ he wasn't as egotistical as she assumed. Of course Christine was still petrified of fulfilling the stipulations of the contract, but this had been a big step in the right direction. So reaching up, she accepted Erik's hand, allowing him to help her to her feet.

"Come, Christine, I have a very special room I wish to show you," he told her, a smile of immense pleasure gracing his lips.

.

.

"Oh…my," Christine gasped as her eyes tried to take in everything at once. After stopping in the sun-room to retrieve her father's violin, Erik had led her down the hall, past the entertainment room, and into the most magnificent music studio she had ever seen. Everywhere she looked there was something that brought glory to the art of music. From the almost space-age stereo and sound system, to the amazing, black grand piano in the middle of the room. The dozens of shelves were lined with old records, CDs, and every book imaginable written about music. Erik stood back and allowed Christine the freedom to explore, standing in the doorway as he trailed her with his eyes. Leafing through his extensive collection, he saw her raise an eyebrow when she pulled out an LP from the 1980s.

"Iron Maiden?" she questioned, cringing at the rather startling cover art on the jacket. "I never would have pictured you for a heavy metal type."

"I appreciate all kinds of music," he told her with an elegant shrug of his shoulders. He flinched slightly at her reaction to the drawing of the death-like head in front of her, thinking that right there was the very reason he would never allow her to see him without his mask. "Some more than others, of course, and I find I favor what they call the _monster ballads_. That particular one, however, is a first pressing of their debut album…and I am particularly fond of track four on side one."

Christine turned the cover over and read through the titles of the songs.

"Interesting," Christine mused, unsure why this one held more meaning than any of the others. Giving a shrug, she replaced the record and thumbed through a few more. Amid other varied choices, like Led Zeppelin, King Crimson, and Bon Jovi, she discovered Mozart, Chopin, and a wide range of Broadway musicals. Erik was _truly_ diverse. Moving on from his music collection, her attention was quickly grabbed by not one, _but two,_ intricately carved violins, the likes of which Christine had never seen.

"Who made these?" she asked, gesturing to the two stringed instruments sitting on shelves in a lighted glass case.

"The one on the right was crafted by Guarnerie del Gesu," Erik informed her.

"I don't believe it!" Christine squeaked, her eyes growing wide. "There are thought to be less than two hundred of his creations left in existence! My father always said that Guarneri's violins had a darker, more sonorous tone, and he considered them superior to even a Stradivarius. He would kill to be allowed to hold one, let alone play it!"

"Well, then, he will have to come here when he is recovered and play to his heart's content," Erik chuckled, trying desperately to picture the kind-looking Charles Daaé willing to commit murder for…well, for _any_ reason! Then again, he had just literally blackmailed the man's daughter into marrying him, so the idea was not exactly out of the realm of possibilities.

"Truly? You'd allow that?" Christine whispered, shocked by his generosity. "I think that offer alone might be enough to jumpstart his recovery! And this one…who made it?" she continued, pointing to the second one in the case.

"I did," Erik told her, doing all he could to keep the pride out of his tone, yet it was difficult to do when his lovely wife stared at him with eyes full of wonder.

" _You_ made it? From scratch? All by yourself?" With the asking of each question, Erik had nodded his head, prompting the next and the next until Christine held no doubt in her mind that he was being truthful. "Is there anything you can't do?" The last question had been spoken under her breath, but Erik had heard it nonetheless.

 _I do not know how to make you love me,_ he thought to himself, causing his smile to fade momentarily.

Christine had turned back to admire the two violins, her hands coming up to hover over the glass, not daring to touch or leave fingerprints. But suddenly she whirled around to face him.

"Do you know _how_ to play these?" she demanded.

"Of course," he responded, sounding almost offended by her question. "Why own something if you have no intention of enjoying it?" The words had scarcely left his lips when he realized just how that might have sounded to her ears, and he opened his mouth to quickly explain himself. Yet, Christine didn't even seem to have heard him beyond his initial confirmation.

"Play this!" she almost begged, picking up her father's violin and holding it out to him. "Please…I…I would dearly love to hear it again. It's been so long and…and it would mean a great deal to me."

Erik was shocked by her pleading eyes and the desperation in her voice.

"Are you sure?" he questioned, taking the piece in his hands with care. "To play another person's musical instrument without their permission is tantamount to… _infidelity_."

"I give you permission, Erik…I _need_ to hear it," she beseeched, sitting down on the very edge of the leather sofa to the right of him, her hands clasped together as she stared up at him expectantly. _"Please."_

With a nod of compliance Erik removed the bow from the case and nestled the violin under his chin, closing his eyes as he began to play.

A cross between a gasp and a sob escaped her lips and Christine instantly covered her mouth with her hands to insure that Erik received complete silence. He was magnificent, a true master and the melodies he coaxed forth from her father's treasured violin brought tears to her eyes. There had been days she thought she'd never hear it played again, that it would remain silent and untouched evermore. Yet here was Erik…her husband, breathing life back into the greatly neglected instrument, playing it as if he had been born doing so.

Erik had become lost in the music, something which happened often, if he were to be truthful. The violin was in perfect tune and for some strange reason, playing something that belonged to her beloved father made him feel closer to Christine in some way. It was as if by asking him to play it, she had invited him into a very special and personal part of her life, and he cherished every note he brought forth, hoping they pleased her. When the piece was over, he opened his eyes and lowered the violin, only to find his precious wife a sobbing mess on the couch. Quickly replacing the instrument in its case, Erik scooted over and carefully wrapped his arms around Christine, pulling her close.

"Shhh, hush now, my dear," he whispered into her ear as he rocked her back and forth. He was unsure if the use of his endearment was too soon, but it felt right at the moment, and he hoped it would offer her a measure of comfort. "What is this all about…there is no reason for tears."

"You…you played so beautifully," Christine got out between gasps for air, her tears flowing freely down her cheek. "If I closed my eyes…it was as if…my father was right here in the room."

"Do not fear, he will be as good as new in no time, you will see. And then it will be him playing for you again…I promise." Erik knew there was always a chance that Charles Daaé would never fully recover, yet Dr. Miller seemed convinced he would. So, in essence, it was the doctor's medical experience and expertise that Erik had based his whole marriage on…the man best not fail him. "Just think, by the time you are ready to give your first feature performance at Juilliard, perhaps your father will be well enough to sit in the audience and give you a standing ovation. Of course he will not be clapping as loudly as I, but I am certain he will be a close second."

Erik's little jest had won him a slight laugh from Christine, just as he had hoped it would. He was still holding on to her and rocking her back and forth, and much to his delight, she had yet to pull away. However, all good things must come to an end, and soon she did sit up, extracting herself from his embrace as she tried to wipe her eyes. Erik, always being prepared for any situation, reached into his pocket and handed her a clean handkerchief.

"Thank you," she sniffed, mopping up her tears before blowing her nose. She folded up the cotton square and placed it in the pocket of her slacks. "I'll be sure to wash this before giving it back to you," she promised, looking a bit embarrassed.

"No need, all the laundry is sent out for cleaning," he explained, though touched that she would feel the need to go to such lengths for him.

"Will you not allow me to do even so simple a thing as wash out a handkerchief?" she laughed, giving him an exasperated look.

"I already told you, Christine, you have loftier goals to focus on…like your audition piece for Juilliard this Monday," he reminded her. "I know you were not expecting this emotional breakdown, so if you would prefer to postpone your practice, it would be understandable."

"No!" she said suddenly, looking a bit horrified at the thought. "I have so little time as it is, I can't afford to waste a minute."

"I was hoping you would say that," Erik smiled, proud of his brave little wife. "Then shall we get started?"

" _We?_ You mean, _you're_ going to instruct me?" This was quite a new thought for Christine, for in all the different scenarios she had dreamed up this afternoon, the idea of Erik himself teaching her had never crossed her mind.

"Of course," he laughed. "Who else did you think would do it? Gerald? Amir? Madame Giry perhaps? I thought I had made my qualifications quite clear by the many notes I left on the restaurant table with your tips, giving you instructions on how you could improve your singing."

"Ummm," Christine fretted, looking down at her hands and wringing them in worry over her next confession. "I…I never actually read any of them past the first one. I wadded them up and threw them away…without even looking at them."

Erik became very quiet and still, and after what seemed like an eternity, Christine raised her eyes to look at him, trying to gauge his mood. Just like his mask, his eyes were unreadable and a wave of shame came over her as she realized how rude her actions had been back then.

"I see," he finally responded, accompanied by a long hum of displeasure. "Well, it would appear that we will be starting from square one then. I trust that since you are now my wife, you will take my suggestions more seriously and endeavor to make up for lost time."

"Oh, yes…of course," she assured him quickly. "And I'm very sorry for not accepting your notes before."

"All is forgiven," he nodded, rising to his feet as he made his way to the piano. Sitting down he opened a folder that contained several copies of sheet music, the notes as well as the words scrawled across it in Erik's fine hand. "I have taken the liberty of selecting a piece I feel will showcase your talent and cause even the most hardened admissions director to weep at the beauty of your voice. Tell me what you think," he instructed, holding out one of the pages to her. Christine hurried to his side and took the offered sheet, scanning it with her eyes as she hummed the melody to herself.

Just like the music he had played on her father's violin, this song was perfect…absolutely perfect. She had never heard it before, and due to the fact it was handwritten, Christine assumed it was an original piece, produced by Erik himself. Her words from earlier came back to haunt her mind… _was there anything this man could not do?_

"I know you are eager to try and sing it, Christine," Erik warned, holding up his hand to stop her. "But first you must exercise your vocal cords, especially after that good cry you just had. I am willing to bet your throat is tighter than a kettle drum right now, and probably a bit sore as well. Some scales for the first half an hour should limber it up."

The last thing Christine wanted to do was waste her time on childish scales, and yet, she knew Erik was right. A singer could strain their voice by not warming up properly, effectively damaging themselves and any future chance of singing professionally, simply by being overly enthusiastic. So she tamped down her anxious nature, and followed his directions to the letter. Christine was blown away with his knowledge of musical technique, and every trick or suggestion he encouraged her to employ was immensely helpful. She had studied for months at the university before learning as much as she had in one session with Erik. Christine was beginning to believe that with his help, she just might stand a chance of getting into Juilliard after all.

When he felt she had sufficiently warmed up, Erik had her go over the song he had written, accompanying her on the piano with amazing skill. After her first run through, he stopped and eyed her thoughtfully.

"That bad, huh?" she cringed, knowing that even though she had been singing at the restaurant, she was woefully out of practice when it came to serious music.

"Not as bad as you might think," he mused, standing up and walking over to where she stood. "Your posture is a bit off, and you are not holding your final notes long enough, probably due to improper breathing technique…but nothing that can't be fixed with time and practice." He then reached out and gently readjusted her stance, placing his hands on her abdomen. "Breathe in," he instructed, not removing his hand as his other one pressed on her spine as well.

She did as he asked and watched his eyes closely to see if there might be a true reason for this exercise, or if he was just looking for an excuse to manhandle her. Yet Erik appeared to be all business at the moment, frowning and making thoughtful humming noises as he continued to reposition her.

"There, that should help a great deal," he nodded, stepping back as he told her to take a deep breath and hold it for ten seconds. When he allowed her to release it, she could almost feel the extra amount her lungs had expanded due to his slight manipulations. This man was truly a genius. "Now…again please, from the top."

And so Christine sang, better this time, yet every so often Erik would stop her and offer another suggestion, or bit of instruction, before having her continue. This went on for what seemed like hours, with neither one of them realizing just how late the time had grown until once more the clock in the hall chimed the hour.

"Forgive me, Christine," Erik said, checking his watch in disbelief. "It would appear that once again I have monopolized your time, stealing away your precious sleep." He stood up from the piano and closed the lid over the keys, effectively putting it to bed for the night. "We shall continue your lessons tomorrow night."

"And how did I do, Maestro?" she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. Erik was still a mystery to her - a bossy, manipulative, and oftentimes frightening mystery - but she now realized that he was a musical genius as well, and she respected his opinion in this matter.

"Much better than I expected, considering the fact you have been disregarding my instructions for the past month," he told her with a teasing smile. "You have great talent and ability, one that should have been nurtured more thoroughly since you were a child. However, you are still young, you have time to grow and improve before you will take your place at center stage."

"I'll what?" she asked, not at all comfortable with his obvious plans for her future.

"You have the capability of becoming one of the greatest singers of our time, Christine," he explained patiently. "As your husband, and now your voice coach, I will not see you waste such talent on the likes of those unappreciative patrons at the restaurant. You were meant for the stage, to sing before adoring crowds, those who will love and appreciate what you have to offer." He stopped there and tilted his head to the side, as if giving something his serious consideration. "However, once you become pregnant, we will need to monitor your breathing capacity carefully, gauging when it would be wise for you to discontinue practice until after the baby is born. I would not want you to become overly taxed due to the infant pressing on your lungs and diaphragm." When Christine's eyes grew wide and her mouth fell open, he realized once again that he might have overstepped, voicing his well thought out plans without discussing them with her first. "I apologize, Christine…have I upset you in some way?"

"Yes…I mean, no…this is all just…well, a bit overwhelming at the moment," she insisted, feeling the panic rising within her chest. "Couldn't we just focus on the one song for now…and worry about the _future_ later?"

"Of course, one thing at a time," he nodded in agreement. "And right now, that _thing_ is sleep." He then walked over to where he had laid her father's violin and with the utmost care, he placed it on one of the shelves inside the glass case, right beside the Guarnerie. "Excellent," he stated, standing back to inspect his handiwork. "I believe it looks right at home there."

"My father would think so as well," Christine told him, feeling something akin to gratitude welling up within her. The man couldn't be all bad if he had such a keen appreciation for music, and for the first time since she met Erik, she felt that her father might actually have approved of him…had he gone about courting her the proper way, that is.

"Shall we?" he asked, once more extending his hand to her.

This time Christine did not hesitate to take it, though in all truth the idea of where he planned to lead her still caused a measure of anxiety. She knew she had survived the first night, sharing a bed with this man…but it still felt strange. Granted, he _was_ her husband, but without the love that was supposed to accompany such an intimate setting, it just seemed… _wrong_.

.

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When they had reached the bedroom, they both broke off to get changed in their own private baths. Christine again agonized over what she should wear, still highly uncomfortable with showing a lot of skin. The nightgown she had worn last night was missing from where she had laid it and she could only assume that Janet, the maid, had taken it with the rest of the laundry. Christine did a mental count and saw that there were only four long nightgowns left, so unless the other one was returned soon, or she began to hide the ones she had left, she would run out very soon.

Once more, Erik emerged from getting changed first, having donned his sleeping mask, and sat on the end of the bed waiting for his wife. He busied himself by checking his e-mails and text messages on his phone, having completely ignored everything while he spent the evening with Christine. As far as he was concerned the world could come to a screeching halt and he would not have cared one bit, just as long as he was with her. Erik felt they had made great strides in their relationship, their mutual love for music having allowed them to form somewhat of a tentative bond. He would need to fan that flame, and do everything in his power to not frighten her further. Erik had learned a valuable lesson in trust and communication today, one he would not soon forget.

When he heard the soft click of the door opening, he put his phone away and stood up, giving Christine a welcoming smile as she walked over to the bed and climbed beneath the blankets. Erik was pleased to note that she did not race across the room this time, desperate to hide herself in the bed like before. And because of this, he was able to admire the view a few seconds more…a view he heartily approved of. Not for the first time, and certainly not the last, he cursed himself for offering her such a long period of time in which to become better acquainted. While he was enjoying getting to know her on a more personal level, he worried that too much time might put a strain on his efforts to remain a gentleman. Erik was not accustomed to being told _no_ , or having to wait for something he desired. Yet for Christine…he would put forth a valiant effort.

When his wife was at last snuggled in bed, he too went around to his side and slid between the sheets, reaching over to shut off the light.

"Good night, Christine," Erik told her quietly.

"Good night, Erik," she whispered back after a few seconds of silence. "Thank you for playing for me tonight."

"You are most welcome," he replied, the wide smile that graced his lips being lost in the darkness.

He lay there for a few more minutes, thinking about all that happened that day, and how he might continue to train her voice. However a series of movements from the other side of the bed drew his attention. Christine seemed to be fighting with the covers, rolling around a bit as she appeared to be entangled in her night dress. She would tug here and pull there, huffing a little in frustration as she continued, causing Erik to work hard to hold back a laugh.

 _It would seem I have a fussy wife_ , he thought to himself as Christine finally settled down, having kicked off at least one of the heavier blankets in an effort to get comfortable. Yet Erik did not care at all… _he had a wife_ , and that was all that mattered to him. She could be the fussiest thing in the world, bleed him dry of every cent he had, and he wouldn't mind a bit…just as long as she was _his!_

And with that happy thought running around in his mind, Erik rolled over and fell instantly asleep.

* * *

 **Well folks...looks like Erik groveled enough to get himself out of the dog house. And let's all remember, this is still his FIRST day at being a husband...he has to get better...right?**

 **Did you all enjoy the music room? I think they will spend a lot of time there now. Erik is so proud of his room and musical instrments. He's so cute when he's happy.**

 **He wasn't very pleased to hear she threw away all his notes though...we know how he loves his notes. ha ha.**

 _ **CONTEST TIME:**_ Win a free snippet card if you can tell me the name of the song Erik said he was particularly fond of from that album Christine picked up. While I'm not into Iron Maiden myself...being more a country girl...a kind reader (ZeppelinFloydGuy) pointed out that Erik would appreciate all types of music, and I agree. He is rather diverse. **Please note...since I am unable to send private messages to Guest Readers, I can only give snippets to those with accounts. I'm sorry.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Yippee, my guest reviewers are back!**

 **Guest Kristen:** Thanks! I hope you count my stories as 'good PoTO' FanFiction. Glad to have you aboard!

 **Meowmeows:** Yep, I fooled you with Amir being on Erik's side this time. ha ha. Raoul will show up eventually, but I tend to write slow...meaning I write a lot of chapters but don't cover much time during them. ha ha. So he will be showing up in his own due time. And that's right, Christine is married, so hands off Raoul! Thanks for your kind review.

 **Lex888:** So...you wouldn't be mad if I posted mid week? Does that mean I made you happy? Ha ha, yes I did mention the chandelier, but I seriously doubt ERik would drop one in his own house. ha ha. He would have to clean up the mess himself. Thanks.

 **Emmy6:** Amir is Erik's voice of reason...sometimes...once in a while. ha ha. Christine has spunk, she just chooses her battles. This IS still only their first day as a married couple. ha ha. Thanks.


	11. Chapter 11

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 **Congratulations to all who guessed the answer to the contest question. Yes, the forth song on side one of that album is "Phantom of the Opera". Again I thank ZeppelinFloydGuy for pointing this out to me, I thought it was a very funny thing to stick in there...and a lot of you won a free snippet card because of it.**

 **Now...let's see if day two goes any better. ha ha.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 11**

 **~X~**

* * *

Once again, Erik was the first to awaken, instantly turning his masked face towards where his wife still lay, sound asleep. A smile touched his lips as he saw Christine cuddled up on her side, facing away from him, yet looking so adorable that he could not help but roll towards her to get a better look. Erik propped himself up on his elbow and just stared at her, enjoying the stolen moments of observing her without her knowledge. He had watched her many times in the past, while she worked at the restaurant, serving thankless guests, and always doing so with a smile. Yet to see her this unguarded and vulnerable, caused a pressure around his heart that was almost painful. He recalled the moments they had shared the previous night…the singing, the comfortable conversation, him holding her while she cried. It was more than clear to Erik that Christine needed him just as much as he needed her. Well, maybe not _just_ as much, but he would take what he could get.

When she had fallen into his arms in a mess of tears over his playing…it had caught him off guard. One side of him relished the experience, while another part of him hated to see her cry. Still, it caused a surge of pride to know that he was the one who had evoked such emotions within her, touching her deeply with his music. Erik truly hoped they would be able to relate on that one level at least, using music as a buffer between them. He would do all he could to build on that, and perhaps it would be enough to form a bond, one that would lead to something… _more?_

Erik did not know how long he had lain there staring at her, his eyes feasting on the delicious sight, while his ears drank in every little sigh and exhale she made. But soon he felt the need to rise, to take care of his morning routine, and start the day. Slipping out of the bed silently, he headed off to his washroom, careful not to wake his sleeping beauty. Once he showered and got dressed, Erik made his way down to the kitchen and started setting out items for breakfast. When the coffee was ready he poured two steaming cups, adding in just the right amounts of sugar and cream to hers – his he preferred black – and headed back upstairs.

Erik had just entered the room when the wicked sun crested over the trees and began to burn through the window, right into Christine's tightly shut eyes. He stifled a laugh as he watched her face scrunch in displeasure and she pulled the covers up over her head, effectively blocking out the morning rays…but taking away Erik's lovely view as well.

"Good morning, Christine," he chuckled, setting her cup on the nightstand as he stared down at the lump of covers. "Am I to assume by your actions that you are _not_ a morning person?" When he heard a low groan of displeasure from under the covers his smile widened, figuring he had been right.

"Oh, God, please tell me you're not one of those insufferable people who wake up all bright eyed and ready to go!" came the muffled voice of his adorable wife.

Erik could not help the small snort that escaped him at her question. _Him_ , enjoying getting up each morning and looking forward to the day? Ridiculous! However…now that he had a pretty bride to share his time with, Erik could certainly grow to _tolerate_ mornings. Still, if he were to be honest…

"No, I am _not_ a morning person, Christine," he confessed, reaching down and pulling back the blanket to reveal her mussed up hair and squinted eyes, which she quickly covered with her hand. "I admit that I much prefer the night over daylight hours. The darkness is more…forgiving."

"Well, thank goodness for small favors I suppose," she said with a yawn, still refusing to fully open her eyes.

"Would some coffee lure you out of your den, my little hibernating bear cub?" Erik asked, picking up her cup and holding it out as a bribe. He watched as one eye opened just a little bit, as she peeked between her fingers.

"With cream and sugar?" she questioned, attempting to sit up as she eyed the mug suspiciously.

"Of course," he nodded as she took it from him. "I prepared it to your specifications."

Erik watched as she took a sip and closed her eyes in pleasure, the rich, aromatic liquid doing much to mollify her distaste for waking up. He was happy he could bring a smile to her face, and he hoped the day would only progress well from here.

"I am preparing breakfast if you wish to join me," he offered, taking a swallow of his own coffee. He would have to remember that she responded better to waking when bribed, than frightened. Erik was still a bit hurt over the way she had scurried away from him the previous morning, almost falling out of bed in the process. _This_ was much nicer.

"Will there be bacon again?" she asked, looking over the rim of her cup at him hopefully.

"Yes, there will be bacon," he laughed, completely enjoying the light banter between them. "My bear cub is a carnivore, it would seem."

"Bears eat fruit and nuts too, you know," she argued. The way he kept using the word _'my'_ when referring to her was a bit unnerving. Yet, she did sign those blasted papers, so who was she to make a fuss? "But come on…who doesn't like bacon?"

"Beautiful, smart, _and_ logical," Erik complimented. "How did I ever get so lucky?" He could tell that Christine was about to open her mouth and answer, and not thinking he would enjoy her possible reply, he ended the conversation quickly. "I will see you downstairs in a half an hour?" And not giving her time to argue, he quickly left the room. Erik waited on the other side of the door until he heard her bathroom door open and shut, before he continued downstairs to start cooking.

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Erik had never enjoyed fixing meals before, mostly because when he did, it was generally for only one… _him._ And never being the type who found pleasure in eating, the dishes were usually created for the sake of necessity alone. Yet now he took great pride in making sure the eggs were seasoned just right and whipped to perfection. He took extra care with the bacon, guaranteeing that none of the pieces burned, yet were favorably crisp, wishing to please his wife in every way he could. They had made great strides last night, and Erik would not see all that destroyed by a distasteful breakfast.

When Christine came down at last, he was once again ready to serve the meal, timing things against how long it took her to ready herself yesterday. His eyes swept over her attire, a simple blouse and a pencil skirt, doing wonders for his libido as he scanned her shapely legs. He wished she would turn around so he could see the way the skirt hugged the rest of her body, complimenting himself once again for choosing her attire so carefully. Yet when he saw the blush come to her cheeks, he quickly averted his heated gaze and offered her a second helping of coffee. When they sat down and both began to partake of the fare he had made, they ate mostly in silence…again. The only thing heard was the quiet noises Christine made as she savored her breakfast. This at least pleased Erik.

"So what do you have planned for today?" he asked, sipping at his own second cup of coffee.

"I suppose I'll go see my father again," she mumbled, trying not to talk with her mouth full of bacon.

"Excellent," Erik nodded.

"Will…will you be giving me singing lessons again this evening?" she asked, her voice a bit quiet and unsure.

"Of course," he nodded. "There is still much to do, and now with only three more nights before your audition, we can't afford to miss even one practice session." When she got a startled look on her face, he quickly added, "Yet as I said before, you will do just fine. You have nothing to worry about."

"I wish I had _your_ confidence," she muttered under her breath.

"You have talent…the confidence will come in time," Erik told her, having heard every word. He downed the last of his coffee and stood, reaching down to take her plate. He could not help but laugh a bit as she grabbed for her last piece of bacon before it was stolen away, nibbling on it as he cleared the table. When the dishes were rinsed and stacked, Erik headed for the kitchen door, followed quickly by Christine, still nursing her own cup of coffee.

"What about you?" she questioned, watching as he grabbed his jacket off the chair in the hall.

"Mostly the same as yesterday, though thankfully not as many meetings," he replied. "Perhaps, since it is Friday, I can leave a bit early and we can get an extra hour of lessons in before dinner?"

"I...I wouldn't want to take you from your work," she stammered, once more feeling a bit awkward. While she did wish to do well at her audition, she had kind of enjoyed the idea of having more time to herself…for her new husband and life were still a bit confining.

"It is no trouble at all," he smiled. "After all, I _am_ the boss, so if I decide to take off, who is there to argue with me?"

"Antoinette?" Christine suggested, knowing that if anyone could, it would be her.

"Well…perhaps," Erik chuckled. "Yet I think she would be just as happy to leave early herself. The woman has often told me that I sometimes forget that my employees have lives…that not everyone's existence revolves around their job."

"Meaning you're a workaholic?" Christine questioned, taking another careful sip of her coffee.

"Meaning I take what I do very seriously," he explained. "If something is worth doing, it is worth doing well. I give Phantom Industries my full attention and expect no less from my employees." He stopped there and looked down at her inquisitive little face and wide blue eyes, a slow smile spreading across over his lips. "And yet…lately, I find my mind is not quite on business. I now have more important thoughts to occupy my time it would seem."

Christine had just opened her mouth to ask what that might be, but shut it quickly when she saw the look in his eye, understanding just what… _or who_ …he was referring to. She averted her gaze, taking a large swallow from her cup as she tried not to allow her blush to spread. It was a pure sin what that man could do with his eyes! When she said no more, Erik grew impatient and cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him.

"I must be going now," he told her, growing silent as he waited, hoping for some customary response from her. When she still did not speak or make any move towards him, he gave a heavy sigh of defeat and reached for his keys. "I hope you have an enjoyable day with your father," he offered, turning towards the garage without looking back.

Oblivious to Erik's disappointment, though curious to see which of the sleek cars he might take today, Christine followed him to the garage door. When he walked over to the red Porsche, she found she could not wait to hear what it sounded like, having enjoyed the roaring engine of the Ferrari very much yesterday. With a wave and a halfhearted smile, Erik climbed inside and brought the fine-tuned machine to life, causing a little shiver to run down Christine's spine at the thundering sound. She wondered how she might coax him into giving her a ride in one of his cars, for even if she could not drive them herself, she would truly love to take a spin in one… _or two._

As Erik hit the garage door button, Christine was once again given a glimpse of the driveway as he left. Gerald was there waiting for her in the same place as the day before, and while in the back of her mind she wondered if this routine would get old fast…at the moment she felt comforted by the odd familiarity of it. Especially since she was not sure she could handle any more big surprises.

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Two hours later, Christine entered her father's room and greeted him warmly with a hug and a kiss, chattering away as she pulled up a chair and began to regale him with whatever came to her mind. Eventually the one way conversation turned to Erik, for after a while, Christine ran out of things to talk about.

"Oh, Papa, you would not believe what Erik has!" she told him, her eyes lighting up as she imagined what her father would think about this piece of news. "He has a Guarnerie del Gesu violin!" Christine could just imagine what he might have said had he been able to express himself, possibly a look of pure wonder and admiration crossing his features, and she found herself longing for it so desperately. "You should see it, Papa, it's simply beautiful. And he plays too!" She quickly schooled her enthusiasm and added, "Not as good as _you_ , of course, but very well!" Christine wished she could say she was telling the truth, but she was having trouble deciding who was truly best…yet her attachment to her father won out, and sentiment took first place over talent. "He also has one that he made himself; remember how you always wanted to make one too, wishing you had the room and the time to craft one by hand? I can't wait for you to see that one as well. He let me put your violin in the same case, right beside the Guarnerie, and it looks just amazing there under the light in the glass cabinet. When you get better, I'll bring it down here for you to practice on. I know it will really help with your therapy." She realized that she was rambling, but every word was spoken out of love and hope.

Christine went on to tell him about how their apartment had been packed up and brought over in the boxes that now filled the sunroom, as well as the now rather amusing story of how she spotted Amir, her new shadow. Now that she had gained some distance and perspective, she supposed it was not as bad as all that. Besides, Erik had been living this lifestyle far longer than she, and if he felt some kind of protection was needed, maybe she should just learn to live with it. Christine only had to keep this up for the next eighteen years…oh, how terribly long that sounded.

Later on, after lunch, she even performed the audition song Erik had written for her father. When she finished, Christine was startled to hear clapping from the doorway, and looking up she was shocked to see a small crowd had gathered there to listen. Susan was one of them, and after seeing how embarrassed Christine became by all the attention, she turned and shooed them away, saying that was all they got for a nickel's admission. The pretty nurse then came in and shut the door.

"That was just lovely! Really, Christine, you have a gift!" Susan gushed.

"I just hope it's enough to get me into Juilliard," she said, her tone betraying her fears. "Erik says I'll be ready, but the audition is only three days away!"

"Please, if they have an ear for music, and maybe a good pair of eyes…you'll be a shoo-in!" Susan laughed, making Christine chuckle as well. It was nice to have another person on her side. "You needn't worry about a thing, just keep singing like that and they'll be begging you to join!" The nurse then looked at her watch and got an apologetic look on her face. "I'm afraid that I've come to steal your father away. Dr. Mills says our patient is ready to begin his regiment of vitamins and antibiotics, in order to build up his immune system, and wants to get right on it."

"How will that be administered?" Christine asked, worried about her papa and if he would be in any pain from it.

"He'll be receiving it through a drip system from an I-V," Susan explained. "We'll have him hooked up to a monitor, but that can trail behind his chair so he won't be confined to a bed or anything. This should only continue for a few days, and then he'll be ready for the antiserum to be slowly introduced into his body." When she noticed the concern on Christine's face she smiled reassuringly. "Don't you fret, that too will just be added to an I-V, so other than a little pin prick as we place the shunt in his arm, he won't feel a thing. The medicine won't even make him groggy."

"I'm glad," she said with a sigh, feeling much better now that things had been clarified. Christine then leaned down and gave her father a hug and a kiss, telling him she would be back really soon, before allowing Susan to wheel him out the door. As she stood there and tried to take several deep breaths, her mind and heart a mixture of relief and anxiety, she prayed that everything the doctor had told her would truly come to pass. It would be a devastating blow indeed if the procedure failed, and he remained like this for the rest of his life.

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On her way out of Leathwood, Christine found herself trying to see if she could catch a glimpse of Amir…for she was certain that he must have followed her here the same as he had yesterday. Yet she didn't see him once! Granted, the first time she had spotted him in the waiting room, he had not truly been hiding, for he knew she had no idea what he looked like or his purpose for being there. The second time had been an unavoidable accident, one that was more _her_ fault than his. The third time, however, he had to take all the blame, since Christine had spotted him across a busy street! She took pride in that one. Now she was determined to spy him again…kind of like her own personal game of 'Where's Waldo'!

Yet even after stopping at a little farmers' market they found on the way back into the city, Christine never saw her assigned bodyguard once. She knew he must be around somewhere however, since Gerald had let her wander around alone for almost an hour looking at all the produce, flowers, and other homemade items. She knew that her protective driver would never have allowed such a thing if he didn't know for certain that Amir was nearby. Still, the man was doing a much better job at concealing himself this time, and after a while she finally gave up and simply enjoyed the sights and smells around her. Christine ended up purchasing a large bouquet of roses and wild flowers from a kindly vendor, before climbing back in the limo and heading home.

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Erik entered his office and shut the door, locking it securely behind him before heading over to his desk. Pressing a button on a small device, the heavy blinds slowly rolled down over the large windows behind him, blocking out all light, and any prying eyes. Once the room was bathed in comforting darkness, Erik leaned back in his chair and removed his mask, allowing the cool air to touch his overheated skin at last. Keeping his face covered for such long periods of time was not exactly healthy, yet he knew of no other way to avoid Christine seeing him than to keep a mask on at all times. Thankfully the few meetings he had scheduled had not run late, and he was able to sneak away to offer himself a few moments of respite.

Getting to his feet, Erik easily navigated to his small private washroom and ran a sink of cool water, dipping his hands in and splashing the liquid on his face a few times before reaching for a towel. There was no longer a mirror mounted above the basin, he had that removed first thing. However, it was not necessary for him to see his face to know how hideous it was, for once seen…it was impossible to forget.

Reaching up he lightly allowed his fingers to skate over the deformed flesh that substituted for normal skin, feeling each divot and peak of the twisted mass he had been born with. Even his nose, what little he had of one, was an abomination of misshapen cartilage, hardly resembling anything one would generally find in the middle of a face. He supposed he should be grateful that his eyes and lips were somewhat ordinary, though many had often remarked on the odd way he could see in the dark and how the amber color stood out. Still nothing drew more attention than the mask that he wore…yet, he was certain his actual _face_ would cause more of a stir.

Erik had looked into the possibility of plastic surgery on many occasions, whenever some new procedure had been discovered or tried. Yet each time he was met by disappointment, for any doctor who was not out to simply make a fast buck, told him that the risks still outweighed the benefits, and he would more than likely come away looking no better, if not worse, after the surgery. So, after a while, he stopped trying, having resigned himself to looking this way forever.

And until lately, Erik had been able to accept his fate, having managed to build his own empire without the benefit of a face one might look at without flinching or turning away. But now…with Christine, Erik found he had never longed for a normal looking visage more in his life. Oh, what he wouldn't give to be able to offer her what every other man could…a typical husband with an ordinary face. He just hoped what he _could_ give her would be enough to make her life not so terribly difficult to bear. And even if that meant he had to work twice as hard to see that she was happy…Erik would gladly do it.

A buzzing noise from the intercom on his desk pulled him from his thoughts, and he walked back out to see who wanted him now.

"Yes?" he said into the machine.

"I have a Morte Giordano on the line for you, sir," Elizabeth's voice told him.

Erik gave a heavy sigh and raked his hands through his hair, he was really not in the mood. And yet, he had agreed to this…so there was no backing out now. He quickly looked at his watch, giving a low growl as he began to wonder if he was going to get out early after all. Picking up the phone and putting it to his ear, he reminded himself once more of the reason he was doing all this… _so that he could have Christine._

 _._

 _._

Christine initially wondered if Erik had beat them home, having suggested he might get off work early. However, she was very pleased when the door was opened instead by a sweet looking girl, whom she assumed was Janet, the maid. At first Christine had been curious as to why she was the only one Erik chose to call by her first name, while insisting that the cook be referred to as Mrs. Murphy. Yet after seeing that the girl could not have been more than eighteen, she could understand, for even to Christine it would have felt odd to call her Miss Janet…or whatever her last name might be. The young girl was terribly shy and after greeting Christine at the door, and informing her that the master was indeed not yet home, she quickly excused herself and continued with her chores.

After finding a vase in one of the kitchen cupboards, Christine put her bouquet of flowers in some water and placed them on the dining room table, thinking they would be a nice addition to the atmosphere at dinner. She hoped Erik was not allergic, or suffered from hay fever, for if so, her little purchase would end up costing more than the twenty-eight dollars and ninety-nine cents she paid for them.

Since Erik had still not returned, Christine decided that a look around her new home was long overdue. Taking her time, she went from room to room, inspecting everything and getting familiar with the layout. It was a very massive place, with five spare bedrooms and four more bathrooms…each one spotless and apparently never used. Well, Erik _had_ said he only moved in a short time ago, so what did she expect? Her husband didn't seem the type to have a lot of house guests.

There were plenty more rooms to look at though, including a library with tons of books, a laundry room down stairs, and even an overly large basement. There was also an attic, but being a bit leery of such creepy places, Christine decided she didn't need to check _that_ one out just yet, and left the door tightly shut. Yet, in all her searching, she never found any rooms that were locked, and this surprised her. For a man who was adamant about keeping his secrets, one would have thought Erik would have _some_ place he chose to hide them. However, hadn't he said he kept his old apartment - the entire thirteenth floor of Phantom Industries? Maybe _that's_ where he kept all the things he didn't want her to see, never risking bringing them home, for fear she would snoop around and find them?

And yet…wasn't that exactly what she was doing right now? Christine's face turned a deep shade of red at the thought, feeling a bit like a naughty child. After mentally scolding herself for being a prying Pandora, she declared the inspection of the house complete, not wishing to tempt herself any further…just in case she _did_ find some locked door or hidden room. She refused to be a snoop!

Instead, Christine went back to the sunroom and began looking through a few more boxes, setting out some items she would like to display. Erik had offered to let her do so and the more she thought about it the more she liked the idea. It would make her feel a little more comfortable in a house she was supposed to now call her own. However, any thoughts of doing so were quickly put aside when she came across a box marked 'clothes'.

Ripping off the strapping tape, she dug through until she found her favorite pair of flannel pajama bottoms and oversized cotton shirt. Hugging them to her like a child who had just found her long lost teddy bear, Christine scurried up the stairs and stashed them in her bathroom, ridiculously excited about wearing them that night.

In the back of her mind she toyed with the idea that Erik might not appreciate the change in her sleeping attire, with her preferring these over the rather revealing nightclothes _he_ had chosen. But sharing a bed with Erik, who was for all intents and purposes still a stranger to her, still made Christine feel extremely uncomfortable. Thus she decided it was only fair that she was allowed to alleviate a bit of that by choosing her own sleepwear! So, with a determined nod of her chin, she gave herself permission to do just that, and left the bathroom feeling a bit more in charge of her life…at least when it came to her nightly attire.

She only hoped Erik would see things her way as well.

* * *

 **Well, I think their morning went better this time...but Christine totally missed Erik's hopeful look for a goodbye kiss. ha ha. Too soon, Erik...still too soon.**

 **And poor Erik, having to find stolen moments to take off his mask and let his face breathe.**

 **Hmmm, phone calls from Morte? And in case you forgot...Back in chapter one...Morte was the guy who hit on Christine at the restaurant and Erik almost knifed him for it...or did he use a spoon...or a gun...we never found out. ha ha.**

 **Guess Amir has upped his game.**

 **PJs for Christine! Wonder what Erik will have to say about THAT?**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Grandma Paula:** Good to see you once again! I have never done a modern day story before, so I consider this a challenge. How am I doing so far? ha ha. Erik and Christine are still in the 'getting to know ya' faze, but soon things will begin to heat up...but not TOO soon. Christine is not a pushover. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

 **Lex888:** I am happy I could bring a smile to your stressful day. Hope this one did the same. Thanks

 **Guest:** Well don't feel bad, I had no idea what the song was either until it was pointed out to ME! ha ha. Yep, Erik needs to learn from his mistakes and not do that again. ha ha. Thanks for the review.


	12. Chapter 12

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 **Well...let's see how Erik does THIS time. ha ha.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 12**

 **~X~**

* * *

As Erik drove up the driveway that evening, he saw Amir standing outside the garage, leaning up against the building with his arms crossed, as if waiting for him. He did not appear upset, so Erik pushed the button to open the large door and carefully parked the car before exiting. Then hitting the switch to shut the door, he slipped out and joined his Persian associate outside.

"You look like hell," Amir told him, still leaning against the wall.

"Hello to you too," Erik replied snidely, feeling very much like his friend's assessment. "Is there anything to report, or were you waiting out here simply to insult me?"

"No, nothing of consequence to report," Amir informed him. "And I already e-mailed you my assessment of what took place today, so you can read it at your leisure,"

"Then why are you standing here, and not making your rounds?" Erik was already irritated after his conversation with Morte, he did not need Amir adding to his foul mood.

"I came to collect," he said with a wide grin, holding out his hand, palm side up.

"So, you don't think she spotted you today, do you?" Erik asked, setting his briefcase down as he pulled out his wallet and handed Amir a hundred dollar bill.

"Not once!" Amir assured him, tugging on both ends of the bill and making a snapping noise in satisfaction.

"I will be asking her, you know," Erik warned. "If she states the contrary, I will be wanting that back…with interest."

"Fair enough," he laughed, apparently not worried at all over the prospect.

"I trust, however, that you never took your eyes off of her," Erik said with a threatening look.

"Of course not," Amir told him, sounding a bit affronted by his accusation. "Which reminds me, if you're smart - and I'm only telling you this because I know you're not – you'll compliment Christine on her choice of flowers today. She spent an inordinate amount of time picking them out."

"Flowers?" Erik questioned, not sure what his friend meant.

"You'll find out," he laughed, pushing himself off the garage and heading towards the guest house where he lived. "See you tomorrow."

Erik stood there and watched Amir walk away, waving his money over his shoulder in a gloating fashion as he went.

"Idiot," Erik mumbled, picking up his briefcase and heading to the front door. Unlocking it and letting himself in, he stopped in the hallway and shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it over the chair as he deposited his keys and stripped off his tie. He was about to go in search of Christine when he saw her descending the stairs in front of him, her lovely blue eyes trained right on him. Erik stilled, saying nothing as his eyes stalked her every move, until she had come to stand directly in front of him, gazing at him pensively.

All day his thoughts had centered on nothing but her, and how lovely it would be to take her in his arms and kiss her. Oh, but he knew it would not end there, no, one kiss would never be enough. And while he wanted nothing more than to ravish his own wife, he had given his word to wait at least a month. Thirty long torturous days… _or more_! Could he do it?

Thankfully he was saved from speaking, or making a fool of himself, by the unexpected entrance of Mrs. Murphy.

"Mr. Thorn!" the kindly cook gasped as she came through the side entrance, heading towards the kitchen. "What are you doing home at this hour? Will you be wishing to have dinner early tonight?"

"No," he replied, at last tearing his gaze away from Christine as he looked at the shocked woman. "Christine and I will be having a music lesson before dinner, there is no need to rush or alter the schedule."

"Oh, very good, sir," she nodded, obviously relieved. "I'll get to work then. I was planning on serving lasagna this evening."

"Excellent, Mrs. Murphy. That sounds… _delicious."_ And while he might have been talking about the food, Erik looked directly at Christine when he said it, causing her to blush slightly and turn away. He kept his eyes trained on her until the door closed and he knew they were alone once again. "You must forgive me for speaking out of turn, for I should have asked if you still wished to practice…perhaps you are too tired?"

"No!" she stated, more than eager to sing with him again. "I mean, I'm not too tired. I would like very much to practice now."

"Good," he smiled, gesturing towards the music room and following directly behind her as she led the way. "For I was forced to bring home some work that could not wait, and I must attend to it after dinner. Thus, this lesson will have to suffice for the evening."

"Perhaps I should have asked if _you_ were too tired to give me a lesson," she suggested, worried that her desire to excel might be misconstrued as selfish.

It took a few moments for Erik to answer, for he had been momentarily distracted once again by the form fitting pencil skirt she wore, enjoying the view from behind very much. It suddenly occurred to him that this was most likely the sight that Amir had spent all day staring at…a thought that deeply upset him! Perhaps he _should_ look into employing a female bodyguard for his wife?

"No, Christine…I am never too tired to do anything with you," he assured her, knowing his words, and underlying meaning, had caused her face to turn red once again. Oh, he so looked forward to following through with all his not so idle threats.

As they walked by the sun-room, and caught sight of the boxes once again, Erik felt compelled to ask if she was finished searching through them for anything she wished to keep out.

"Almost," Christine assured him, trying not to look directly into his eyes. "I have just one or two more things to find, and the rest can then be stored. I'm sure you're more than ready to get these boxes out of your…I mean, _the_ house."

Erik frowned at her almost slip of the tongue, yet she had caught herself and changed the wording. He knew it was going to take time before she came to terms with her new situation. He would simply need to be patient.

Christine knew that Erik had caught her little mistake, and was grateful that he chose to ignore it. She knew he wanted her to feel comfortable here, and believe that it was indeed her home. Yet how could she when everything was still so new. Right now, Christine felt like a guest…often an unwilling one, but a guest nonetheless.

"Here we are," Erik said, stepping ahead of her and holding the door open like a gentleman. Christine felt an instant sense of relief wash over her as they entered the music room, for here she felt at peace. Here she knew what was expected of her, and she knew what to do. The rest of her life might be in constant turmoil, but when she sang, the whole world seemed right. If only Christine could carry some of this confidence with her outside the room.

"I told my father about your violins today," she stated, once more going over to admire the three that were in the glass case. "I didn't tell him that I'd begged you to play _his_ though…I didn't wish to get you in trouble."

"I thank you for that," Erik chuckled, going over to sit at the piano. "I fear I might already be on his short list for daring to marry his daughter, let us not give him further fodder for disliking me."

Christine watched as he casually rolled up his shirtsleeves, his well-toned forearms being put on display for her eager eyes. For a split second she entertained the question of whether the rest of his body was equally impressive. Yet just as quickly as the thought had sprung up, she squashed it down, not wanting her wicked mind to even contemplate such things. Not yet…not until she absolutely had to.

"Shall we begin?" he asked, his fingers expertly running over the keys as he began to play warm up scales, not even waiting for a reply.

.

.

Christine felt herself relax as she threw herself into what she loved most. Music had always been her refuge, her place to hide from the world, and lately she felt she needed the escape more than ever. So as the next hour and a half flew by, she let herself become lost in the passion and euphoria that singing created. When Erik finally stopped and gave her a very satisfied look, she at last came out of her daze, realizing just how out of breath she was.

"That was much better," he complimented, shutting the lid on the piano. "Have you been practicing by any chance?"

"I went over the song on the car ride to and from Leathwood," she confessed, rather proud of herself and Erik's praise. Christine was coming to understand that even if her new husband was a manipulative, and often frightening mystery to her, the man knew what he was doing when it came to music. She was also willing to bet that any commendation had to be earned…for it would not be given away easily. "I also sang the song for my father while I was there. And while I hope _he_ enjoyed it, a few of the staff and other patients appeared to."

"Well, your extra effort shows," he nodded. "I would recommend that we double up on our sessions this weekend, and make sure you are more than ready for Monday. I will have to run into the office tomorrow for a short time, but after that, I am at your disposal."

Christine did not know what to say about that…two days of just her and Erik? At least she had the prospect of allowing music to monopolize most of their time together. Which brought another question to mind.

"Could you tell me more about the audition?" she asked, walking over to sit in the chair to his right, her hands nervously fidgeting in her lap.

"Such as?" Erik prompted, turning in his seat to face her.

"How did you manage to arrange it, and so near the end of a semester as well?" Christine probed. "I thought classes were closed by now and no new applicants would be accepted until the fall."

"I happen to be a major donor to the school," Erik began, crossing his arms over his chest as he spoke. "This allows me a bit of influence in demanding that certain applicants be seen and interviewed. However, even I would not insist that they take on any new students they do not feel are fully qualified. Hence the need for you to make sure you are completely familiar and comfortable with the audition piece."

"And do they know it's your… _wife_ they'll be interviewing?" she questioned meekly.

"Actually…no. When I arranged the interview a week ago, you did not yet hold that title," Erik pointed out, giving the issue a bit of thought. "I will have to amend the application I sent in and inform them of your new name."

"Please don't," she all but begged, leaning forward in her chair.

"And why not?" he practically barked, apparently offended by her request. "That is your name now, is it not?"

"Yes…of course," she nodded, trying her best to placate him. "I'd simply prefer that they interview Christine Daaé, and not Christine Thorn. If you do indeed hold that much influence over the school…I'd rather they not know of our association. It might sway their decision and I want to get in because I'm qualified, not due to my last name being the same as yours."

Erik sat there and stewed on this for a moment. While it bothered him to think of anyone still referring to his wife by her maiden name, he could understand her concerns. He had often insisted on things being done _his_ way at the school, which in his mind was the correct way – especially when he noted that politics were often hindering the acquisition of true talent. And his assertions in the past might indeed cause the professors there to lean towards admitting Christine solely on her affiliation with him. While Erik was more than certain that she could get in on her own merit, regardless of what she called herself, he could see how if she went in claiming to be Christine Thorn…she might never feel secure in her place.

"Very well," he nodded, though still looking a bit perturbed by her request. "I will allow you to audition using your maiden name. However, once you are established, I insist that you update your information. I will _not_ have anyone at that school thinking that you are single and… _on the market!"_ He said the last few words with a great deal of disdain.

"I will," she eagerly promised, a weight appearing to have left her shoulders at his acquiescence. "And…how long will I be allowed to take classes there?"

 _"Allowed?"_ Erik questioned, not liking the way she had phrased it. "You may remain enrolled at Juilliard for as long, or as short, a time as you wish, Christine. I only arranged the audition because I thought it was something _you_ might enjoy."

"And I do…I mean I will!" she was quick to assure him. "I've dreamed of attending such a prestigious school all my life, and I'm very grateful for the opportunity to apply. I just thought…well, because of the contract that…" she left her thought unfinished for she was not quite sure how to address it without offending Erik.

"While I would like to see you go on to pursue a career on stage," he began, doing his best to sound diplomatic and not dictatorial, "I do not think such a thing would be wise until after you have given birth. Carrying a child would not only hamper your ability to train and project, I would very much hate for you to be offered a role, only to have to pull out in order to go on maternity leave. However, I see no reason why you cannot continue your studies right up until the baby is born, and then return to them soon after." When he saw the stunned look on her face he recalled how much she hated looking too far ahead. "But as you said before, perhaps it is best if we take things one day at a time where your career is concerned? To start with, do you know which classes you would like to apply for?"

"I…I've not decided yet, but I hear they have several excellent programs that will earn me at least a bachelor's degree in voice and musical arts. But perhaps I should make sure I can get in before I start dreaming of what classes to take," she suggested, suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed.

"Very well, even though I have no doubt you shall be admitted," Erik said with a confident nod, standing up as he walked over and offered her his hand. "I think it is just about time for Mrs. Murphy to call us to dinner. Would you like to go freshen up before we eat?"

Christine was often amused by Erik's way of putting things, almost as if he had been born in another century. By freshen up, she figured he meant use the restroom or wash her face, for she could still feel a bit of a sheen on her forehead from the exertion she put forth in singing. So with a nod of agreement she allowed him to walk her to the stairs as she headed up to her bathroom.

.

.

When she came back down to the dining room, she found that Mrs. Murphy had already served the salad and it was waiting for her there at her place. Erik had been checking his cell phone, choosing not to eat without her, but he instantly put it away as she walked in, standing up to pull out her chair. Again, Christine marveled at his impeccable manners, wishing every man still displayed such old world charm.

Once she was seated, Erik returned to his place and they began to eat. After the main course was served, Erik chose to make mention of the flowers that were arranged so nicely on the table.

"I must compliment you on the bouquet you brought home," he told her, gesturing to the brightly colored display. "Very stunning."

"Thank you," she smiled, her eyes lighting up as she gazed at it proudly. "We stopped at a little farmers' market outside of town and I couldn't resist." She then got a look of worry and turned to him. "It was all right that I used the credit card you gave me for them, wasn't it?"

"I told you it was yours to use as you wished," he assured her, wanting her to feel secure in her purchase. "I only hope you do so more often, and I do not want you to be hesitant in any way, no matter the cost."

"Yes, Erik," she nodded, still a bit unsure about the whole matter.

"And during your shopping, did you happen to see Amir at any time?" he asked, wishing to make sure that he had not forked over the hundred dollars needlessly.

"No, not once!" she told him, sounding a bit upset by it. "And I looked really hard too!"

This caused Erik to laugh out loud, something he found himself doing more of over the last month than in the rest of his miserable life.

"It would appear he has upped his game," Erik told her. "I think it wounded his pride that you were able to spot him so many times yesterday. I do not think you need to worry about him being a nuisance to you again. He has decided to bestow _that_ privilege upon me alone, it would seem," Erik huffed, recalling that his billfold was now a hundred dollars lighter.

.

.

After dinner they retired to the entertainment room, where Christine spent her time channel-surfing while Erik spread out his paperwork over his large desk behind the couch. As she scanned to see what might be on that would entertain her, she could hear him shuffling pages and often giving a deep sigh, signaling to Christine that he was none too pleased with whatever he was doing. Several times she turned the volume down a notch, worried that the program might be bothering him, but not once did he say anything, or even appear to notice.

When yet another long-suffering sigh came from the desk, she hit the power switch and turned off the television, sitting there in silence, waiting to see if he might say something. When only grunts and more paper shuffling was heard, Christine quietly rose from the sofa and exited the room, Erik's head not once looking up from his work.

In the kitchen Christine began opening cupboards and drawers until she found what she was looking for. Soon she had a steaming cup of hot chocolate in front of her, the tiny little marshmallows melting slightly as she stirred the creamy liquid with a spoon. Turning around she was shocked to find that Erik had somehow relocated to the kitchen without her knowledge, his papers now covering the little table they had eaten breakfast on the past few days. How in the world had he managed to sneak in and continue his work so quietly?

"Erik! You startled me," she spoke up, once her heart had started beating normally again – she was glad she had not spilled her drink. His head came up at her voice and he looked at her innocently, apparently not understanding what he had done at all. "I left the entertainment room so that I wouldn't disturb you and you could work in peace…why did you follow me?"

"You were not disturbing me, Christine," Erik insisted, looking at her as if her words were ridiculous. "What disturbed me, was your leaving." When she stared back at him in confusion, he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, attempting to explain. "I have spent the majority of my life alone, and while I will not claim it was in peace, it was undisturbed. I have had enough of that…I now desire companionship. Perhaps it was a little difficult to concentrate on what I was doing with you in the room, yet I would not wish it any other way. When it became silent, and I noticed that you had left, of course I followed. Do you not recall this being one of the main reasons I wished for a wife? I have had enough solitude…I crave company."

"Oh," was all Christine could think to say. It had not occurred to her that by leaving she was causing him more irritation than by staying. And if she were to stop and truly analyze what Erik had just told her, to really think about the emotions behind his confession, Christine knew it would bring tears to her eyes. "Would…would you like to share some hot chocolate with me?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

"I…" Erik began, having to take a moment to swallow the lump in his throat that had formed over her kind offer. "I would love to."

With a smile, Christine took down another mug and carefully poured half of her drink into it, adding more of the marshmallows so that they both got an equal amount. Pulling out a chair for herself, she slid the cup towards him, lifting hers to her lips as he watched her every move.

"Careful…it's hot," she warned as she pulled her lips back from her cup a bit quickly.

"Thank you," he muttered, picking up his mug and sipping at it carefully.

"I…I know a little of how it feels to be…well, _alone_ ," she confessed, not daring to look him in the eye as she spoke. "After Papa got so bad and he quit speaking altogether…it became so quiet in the apartment. I would talk and talk, but it was as if there was no one there to hear me. Often I would escape to the bathroom and run the taps, just so I could cry quietly without him hearing me." Christine sniffed a few times, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to fall, but froze when she felt a gentle hand resting on her arm. Looking up, she locked eyes with Erik, his own mirroring her grief as they shared each other's pain. No words were spoken…for none would have been adequate. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Christine cleared her throat and looked away. "You…you better drink your hot chocolate…before it gets cold."

Erik slowly pulled his hand away and lifted the mug of liquid to his mouth. It was a poor substitute for what he would prefer to be wrapping his lips around, yet once again he felt the rush of excitement over the little step forward they had just made. A shared moment here, a spark of kinship there, and one day…he hoped…a friendship might form. That was a day that Erik desperately longed for.

"Would you prefer to go back into the entertainment room to finish your work?" Christine asked, looking over the papers before her but understanding none of it. "I'll go with you…if you want."

"No, I think I have done enough for now…I will finish this in the morning," Erik told her, gathering it up and shoving it all in a sealable packet. "It has been a long day, we should get some sleep."

Christine could not say that she disagreed, for suddenly she did feel rather weary. The hot cocoa, and emotional trip down memory lane, had seemed to tire her out more than she realized. So when he offered her his hand, she accepted it willingly, following him up as he shut the lights off behind them. They split off once they arrived at their room, both heading to their respective washrooms to get ready for bed.

.

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As usual, Erik finished first and was shutting the drapes – mulling over the idea of investing in some black-out blinds so that the early morning sun would not offend his wife's delicate eyes - when Christine emerged from the bathroom. Turning at the sound, Erik froze when he saw what she was wearing.

"Where did you get _those?"_ he asked, his tone leaving no question that he was not pleased.

"From my boxes," she informed him, looking down at the soft flannel pajama bottoms and the well-worn T-shirt with a picture of a sleeping kitten on it. "This is what I slept in before and…and I feel comfortable in them. You…you don't mind me wearing them…do you?"

Erik could hear the apprehension and fear in her tone and it caused a measure of conflict within him. On one hand, he deeply desired to see his wife in the slinky nighties he had purchased for her, feeling that if he was allowed nothing else, at least he had something pleasing to look at. Yet another part of him longed for Christine's comfort, for her to feel happy and secure in her new role. And if a pair of pink and grey plaid pajama pants and a kitten shirt helped in the matter, then who was he to deny her?

"No…I do not mind," he said with a heavy sigh, his words instantly bringing a smile to her pretty face.

"And…can we remove at least one of the heavier blankets off the bed? It gets too warm with so many on there," she asked, riding high on her previous victory.

"If you feel it will make you sleep better," Erik nodded, going to the other side as he aided her in folding the heavy comforter back and draping it over the bench at the foot of the bed. "Is there anything else, Princess? Shall I also remove the pea from beneath your mattress?" He said the words with a drawn out sigh, but he could not keep his lips from twitching into a small grin, one that did not go unnoticed by Christine.

"So _that's_ why I woke up with that crick in my back!" she huffed dramatically, placing her hands on her hips.

Erik felt a warm flush come over him as he stood there and watched her, looking quite adorable in her almost childlike nightwear. It suddenly occurred to him that while his wife had appeared rather enticing in the sexy lingerie he had bought… _this_ was the true Christine. The one he had first been attracted to, and the one he had come to desire above all others. Maybe she would go back to wearing a few of the things he had purchased, and maybe she wouldn't, but just as long as she slept beside him, Erik supposed it did not matter what she wore.

A wicked thought crossed his mind as he imagined her one day choosing nothing at all, and with _that_ very pleasing thought, he climbed into bed. Shutting off the light, he grinned into the darkness, allowing the sensuous vision to tease his mind.

"Goodnight, Christine," he murmured, after a few minutes of silence.

Yet his wife was already fast asleep.

* * *

 **Well it looks like those comfy PJs did the trick, Christine feels more at ease already.**

 **Good for you Erik for not making her change.**

 **Awwww, they shared hot chocolate together! And Erik opened up just a bit...amazing!**

 **Did I just see a bonding moment for them? I think I did!**

 **Well, it looks like Amir is $100 richer...for now.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Emmy6:** Did Erik's reaction to the PJs shock you? ha ha, see, he does have a heart! ha ha. Yes, that would be terrible if he didn't get better or died and she was stuck. I mean, no matter what, Erik would have fulfilled his part of the bargain, keeping him in Leathwood and paying for it all, it wouldn't be like HE had any control over what her father did. But still, it would be a very big bone of contention. But I agree, it would be nicer if he just got better...AND think of the scolding he would give Erik if he could only talk, ha ha. Oh yes, Erik has plenty of secrets left for her to learn...a whole box of them (Pandora's box) ha ha. Thanks.

 **Phanma** : I'm glad you like my Erik...I'm kind of fond of him too. However, I had to laugh a bit since MOST readers seem to favor Christine in this one and are constantly yelling at Erik for being a dolt. ha ha. Well, to each their own. Thanks.


	13. Chapter 13

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 **You know...I'm not even sure if I should call these bonus chapters anymore, ha ha.**

 **Let's just say it's a "Because I wanted to chapter."**

 **Enjoy.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 13**

 **~X~**

* * *

Erik woke early the next morning, forcing himself to rise immediately, instead of taking a moment to stare at his wife like yesterday. Christine looked so beautiful when she was sleeping, and he knew if he allowed himself to offer more than a quick glance, he would stay there for hours and then nothing would get done.

When he was dressed and ready for the day Erik went downstairs and plucked a single red rose from the bouquet of flowers Christine had purchased the day before. Wrapping a black satin ribbon around the stem he tied it into a bow and placed it on the pillow beside her with a short note, then, with one last look, he slipped out the door.

Erik chose to take the limousine, since it would afford him the opportunity to work on the project he did not finish the night before while Gerald drove. This way he would be mostly done by the time they arrived, and he would not have to spend so much time away from Christine. Erik hoped to be back before lunch and then they could spend the day together, singing, talking, and perhaps they might watch a movie or something later on. It sounded rather wonderful to him, but he would gladly do whatever Christine wished…as long as they did it together.

.

.

An hour or so later, Christine opened her eyes and stretched, allowing sleep to fall away from her as she sat up slowly. She quickly looked to her right, only to find that she was alone. Well, not completely alone…there was a rose and a note. Picking up the flower, she held it to her nose and inhaled deeply. The black ribbon was a nice touch, practically screaming that it had been placed there by her dark and mysterious husband. The note only confirmed this when she saw his bold and fluid handwriting on the envelope. Opening it up, she read what he wrote.

 _Christine,_

 _I did not wish to wake such a beautiful angel while she slept, so I hope this flower will bid you good morning where I could not. I have left for the office, but I will return by noon, whereupon we can enjoy a few hours of practice in the music room. Have a wonderful morning._

 _Your husband,_

 _Erik_

Christine found she could not stop the shiver of trepidation, as well as excitement, as she read the last line. Erik _was_ her husband. While the idea was still quite surreal, it was slowly turning into something more solid. Even though she wore his ring, and lived in his house…not to mention, slept in his bed…it was almost as if the two of them were just starting to date. He had thankfully offered her time to get to know him better, and it would seem that was exactly what they were doing. Erik had revealed a bit of himself to her with his confessions of not wishing to be alone, that he longed for companionship, and those few words had gone a long way in establishing a bond. A tentative one, to be sure, but still Christine knew she wanted to know more.

Yes, he had manipulated her, blackmailing her into a marriage she did not desire, and yet…over all, he had done so much more _for_ her than _to_ her. Her father was, this very day, beginning to receive treatments that would hopefully reverse the effects of his illness. Christine was living in a lavish mansion, and not some tiny apartment in a rundown neighborhood, and she no longer had to slave away waiting tables, fending off groping men, or dealing with unsatisfied customers! All in all, things could be a lot worse.

And maybe…just maybe, they could form a friendship, one that could lead to a comfortable life between them. She owed it to herself to try…didn't she? Christine could either choose to embrace her new life, or make herself - and those around her - utterly miserable. Yet where would _that_ get her? So with a glint of determination in her eyes, she pulled back the covers and set her mind on her new goal. What was that old saying? _It was time to turn lemons into lemonade!_

 _._

 _._

Without Erik there to make breakfast, Christine decided that a toasted bagel and some fruit made a perfect meal for one. Taking it and a cup of tea out on the patio to enjoy the morning sun as she ate. When she was finished, she decided to explore the grounds, wanting to see just what kind of place she now called home. The backyard looked more like a golf course, and as she walked towards a crop of trees in the distance, Christine truly wondered if she would find a sand trap, or a little green with a hole and a flag.

There were neatly trimmed bushes scattered around, as well as an occasional water feature, all adding to the immaculate décor around her. Yet as she continued to walk around, she discovered no flowerbeds or rose gardens. She realized that Erik had not lived here long, so the lack of these did not reflect directly on him, but she still felt their absence quite acutely. Even in the city, Christine had always made a point to have house plants, or a window box with flowers. She had only recently gotten rid of all of them, when the nurse that came to her home suggested that the dirt and pollen could carry allergens that might aggravate her father's condition. Christine had been sad to see them go, but there was no question between her enjoyment of the plants, and her love for her father.

Yet now, as she looked around, she could imagine planting a whole row of rose bushes, and perhaps a bed of flower bulbs that would grace her with blossoms each spring. Her mind wandered back to Erik's offer of classes he had signed her up for…hadn't gardening been one of them? She might have to ask him if he had any brochures, wishing to look into a few of them further.

On her way back, Christine came across the little cottage that served as the guest house, the one where Erik had said Amir was staying. She felt the need to speak with the man, and apologize for her rather rude outburst upon finding that he had been tailing her. She hadn't seen him since, which according to Erik was the general idea, but still, Christine wanted to tell him how sorry she was over her behavior.

So walking up to the little door in the back, she bravely knocked three times. At first there was only silence, but then footsteps could be heard coming to the door, making her take a hesitant step back. When it was pulled open, there before her stood a rather disheveled looking Amir. His hair a bit askew, he was barefoot, and he was wearing only a pair of slacks and a dress shirt that looked like he might have slept in it, half opened and exposing his chest. When he saw who was at the door, he quickly pulled it closed and began to fumble with the buttons.

"Mrs. Thorn," he greeted, looking a bit flustered by her sudden visit. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you," she mumbled, trying not to stare. "I was out taking a walk when I saw your place, and wanted to apologize for my rude behavior in the dining room the other day. I was not upset with you, per se, it was simply the circumstances that had me a bit flustered."

"I completely understand, Ma'am," he nodded, reaching up with his hand to smooth down his hair. "I warned Erik that you would not be pleased about being kept in the dark like that. I trust that he has conveyed his regrets, and you two have come to an understanding?"

"I believe so. Erik has promised to keep me more informed and I…well, to tell you the honest truth, I don't think I'll ever quite understand him, but I'm trying," she admitted with a roll of her eyes.

"That is more than that sorry sod deserves," Amir laughed, enjoying the girl's spirit. He had done a lot of spying on her for Erik before the wedding, but this was the first time they had _really_ talked…and he was beginning to understand just what his employer saw in her.

"I also wanted to compliment you on your ability to hide in plain sight, Mr. Dessan," Christine continued, feeling a bit more comfortable. "I looked for you several times the other day, but you were nowhere to be found."

"I know," he said with a bit of a laugh. "I saw you checking around each corner and turning quickly in hopes of catching me off guard. Yet I was not about to underestimate you a second time. I trust that my invisibility pleased you…I don't wish for you to feel like I'm stalking you. I'll endeavor to remain unobtrusive, per Erik's instructions. I will only interfere with your daily routine if I sense any danger, I assure you."

"I'm grateful for your assistance, Mr. Dessan, truly I am," she began before he cut her off.

"I would much prefer if you called me Amir," he insisted. "I don't see us interacting very often, but it would please me greatly if you would use my given name. Mr. Dessan reminds me too much of my father, a man I fear I am not in very good standing with at the present."

"Oh…all right," Christine nodded, not sure if she should inquire about his strange comment or not. In the end she chose to not be nosey, yet offered him a compromise. "But only if you will also dispense with calling me Mrs. Thorn and simply use Christine."

"I shall…but only because I know that it'll annoy Erik by my doing so," he chuckled.

"I'm also very sorry that I cost you the money you lost to him on the bet," she confessed.

"No worries, I have already won that back," Amir told her. "Erik and I usually have half a dozen wagers going on between us at all times. Keeps things interesting. Not quite sure who is truly ahead, but at the moment I feel like I'm the current winner." He then shuffled a little bit, appearing somewhat awkward. "I would invite you in for some coffee or something, but not only do I not have any, I fear that Erik would not take too kindly to my offer. I suppose I don't need to tell you that he is a bit on the jealous side."

" _Jealous?_ Erik?" Christine repeated with a nervous laugh, thinking that was not quite the word _she_ would have used. Obsessed perhaps, possessive to be sure…but jealous? To be that, he would have to admit to some sort of affection, and he had made it perfectly clear that this arrangement was strictly for the benefit of children and companionship. Love played no part in it. Still…she supposed he could be jealous of her time, yet he was the one who had driven off and left her alone this morning, so he had little room to talk, should she choose to converse with the only other person she could find. "I think you have the wrong idea about me and Erik…he and I are…well, I'm still not sure _what_ we are, but he certainly has no reason to be jealous."

"Oh?" Amir asked, his eyebrow raising in question. "Well, then…I stand corrected. Yet I still have no coffee or tea to offer. I eat out a lot, and am certain that my patronage alone is what keeps Starbucks in business."

"Then I hope Erik pays you handsomely," Christine laughed, enjoying her bodyguard's sense of humor.

"Winning a few bets on the side doesn't hurt either," he admitted.

"I'm sure it doesn't," she told him. "Yet I do need to be getting back, Erik mentioned he would try and be home by noon and it's just about that time now. I'm glad we had a chance to clear the air, so to speak, and I look forward to seeing you…or perhaps _not_ seeing you, again, Amir," she said with a teasing smile.

"As do I…Christine," he grinned, giving her a wink as she turned and headed back to the house. He watched her go for some time, shaking his head in wonder and disbelief. Could the girl truly not see just how much she meant to Erik? Amir supposed that he had more of an inside track where his friend's emotions were concerned, but if the poor girl thought that Erik was not feeling such things as jealousy…well, she was in for a rude awakening.

He made a mental note to speak to him about this soon, and to make sure that Christine did nothing to encourage such undesired emotions in his friend. Erik had very little experience with relationships, of that he was painfully aware, and he would not see the poor man put through the wringer a second time. However, from the few times he had interacted with the new Mrs. Thorn, Amir felt that perhaps Erik had finally met his match. That this little lass just might be exactly what the doctor ordered.

.

.

Erik had indeed hurried back, eager to arrive on time and share in a nice lunch with his wife. He knew that Mrs. Murphy would not be arriving for a few more hours, so he had Gerald swing by and pick up some Chinese takeout for him and Christine to share when he got home. When he walked in the house, setting his things by the door, he called out to her, eager to hear her voice.

Yet no answer came.

Erik took the food into the kitchen and set it in the refrigerator, before he began a systematic search of the house. When several more rooms yielded no Christine, he headed upstairs, thinking that maybe she was in the shower and unable to hear him. But when he found her bathroom door open, and the room empty, he began to panic. Had she woke, and upon finding him gone, decided to run? Had he offended or frightened her in some way, causing her to take to flight? Erik tried his best to fend off such unwanted fears, but years of self-doubt and painful experiences were hard to shake, and he quickly found himself worked up into quite a frenzy. He _had_ to find her!

Slamming the bedroom door he raced down the stairs, taking two at a time, his long legs determined to cover as much ground as they could until Christine was within his sight again. Five more rooms were checked, all of them leaving him disappointed and growing steadily more upset. The only thing that had given him a measure of hope that she had not truly run away from him was the fact that her father's violin was still in the music room cabinet, for surely she would _never_ have left that behind.

Erik had finally given up and was standing in the entryway, his cell phone in his hand as he dialed her number. Since Gerald had driven him to the office, he knew she had not gone to see her father, unless she had chosen to call a taxi. But if that was the case, why had Amir not notified him? When the phone connected and began to ring, he was startled when he heard a corresponding sound coming from behind him. Spinning, his eyes narrowed when he spied her purse sitting on the table in the hallway, her cell phone obviously ringing from within. Damn! Now he had no way to track her either!

Disconnecting the call, he next dialed Amir, desperate for any clue to where she might be, but suddenly he heard the back patio doors open and shut. Then the soft strains of Christine's voice touched his ears, as she sang a little song under her breath, each note like bread to a starving man.

 _She had not left! She was still here!_

Unfortunately, Erik was still far too worked up, and when she rounded the corner, coming into view, he lashed out. The fear and panic he had succumbed to having momentarily addled his mind.

 _"Where have you been?"_ he shouted, his hand fisting around his phone so tightly he thought he might break it.

"What?" Christine gasped, not only shocked to see him standing there, but instantly startled by his outburst.

"I came home and you were _gone!_ Where did you go?" he continued, not appearing to be calming down in the least.

"I…I just went for a walk outside," she stammered, looking completely confused and a bit fearful in the face of his unfounded rage. "I wanted to check out the grounds and see what the place looked like."

"That's all?" he questioned, his eyes still full of suspicion. "You were only…outside?" Erik suddenly realized what an idiot he had been. Why had he not thought to check out back?

"Yes! Why? What did you imagine I was doing?" she asked, her eyes narrowing and her voice now betraying a sense of outrage. "Did you think I might be casing the place to see what I could steal…or perhaps looking for the best way to go over the wall in a daring escape from Alcatraz? Am I now to be your prisoner here, unable to take a simple walk outside without first getting the warden's permission?" Her tone had now turned sharp and full of contempt. "If it makes you feel any better, I made sure to check in with my _guard_ while I was out! Now if you'll excuse me, I've had my fill of this interrogation…I believe I'll go back to my cell! _If_ that's all right with you!" And with a mixture of a huff and a growl of anger, Christine stormed up the stairs, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

Erik was left standing there alone in the foyer, staring up at where Christine had disappeared. _He'd messed things up again._ Allowing his temper to get out of hand and ruin things between them. Would he ever learn?

The sound of the back door opening and closing once more caused his head to turn, seeing Amir striding into the room with a look of disgust on his face.

"Are you _really_ that big of a fool?" he asked, not bothering with any sort of pleasantries.

"What?" Erik asked, not quite sure what the man could mean…other than the obvious, having known him for as long as he had.

"You called me," Amir said, holding up his cell phone and pointing to the one Erik still held in his hand. "And when I picked up, I got an earful of the whole argument!"

Looking down, Erik did indeed see that the line had connected before he launched into his tirade with Christine. He immediately tapped the screen to hang up, now even more upset that his little fit had been overheard by the Persian.

"It is none of your business," he barked, turning his back on him as he headed for the kitchen.

"I beg to differ, Erik!" Amir insisted, following him out of the room. "You made it my business when you assigned me to guard Christine. Do I now need to protect her from _you_ as well?"

This seemed to upset Erik even more and he whirled on him, venom in his voice and anger in his eyes.

"Christine is _my_ _wife_ , I would never harm her and you know it!" he argued.

"No, not physically….I know you far too well to ever believe you capable of that," Amir assured him, crossing his arms over his chest and giving him a somewhat tired look. "Yet you are also known to overreact and say things that are just as painful as knives, Erik. You two are still in the beginning stages of a relationship - be it a very odd one - and you can't afford to have any of your little blow-ups or lapses of judgment. You might be able to get away with such things in the business world, but with women…well, that's a whole different story."

"And what makes _you_ such an expert on women?" he snarled, hating to be told he was wrong.

"Perhaps the fact that I've spent more time with them in my life than you!" Amir stated. "And those ladies you visit when you go out of town don't count…I mean _real_ relationships!"

"I see," Erik retorted, feeling his face redden slightly at the mention of his infrequent liaisons. "And just how many of these ladies have _you_ managed to remain with for more than a month…two at the most? I do not see a ring on your finger, or a wife in your little house."

"Touché," Amir nodded. "Yet I never had to blackmail any of my girlfriends to stay with me either."

The two men stood there, both staring daggers at each other, unwilling to speak the next words. They would either be ones they might not live to regret…or an admission of having gone too far. After a few moments, Erik finally turned around and stormed to the refrigerator, grabbing two bottles of expensive imported beer, and removing the caps. He then walked over to the table and pulled out a chair, slamming the other long-neck down opposite him. Amir joined him and they drank in silence for a few more minutes, both doing their best to cool down.

"I really blew it." Erik said at last, his tone now despondent.

"From what I overheard…yah, you did," Amir nodded, taking another swig of his beer. "Not saying it can't be fixed…but too many more of those and there may be no coming back from it. Did you honestly think Christine had run out on you after only a few days?"

"I…I was not sure _what_ to think," Erik lamented, nursing his drink slowly. "But you have to admit that it is not completely out of the realm of possibilities. I came home, Christine was nowhere to be found, and I let my imagination run away with me. Things are still so new…so different from what I am used to."

"I thought that's what you wanted…something different," his friend reminded him. "You told me that you wished for something you've never had before, and that's why you went to all that trouble getting her dad into Leathwood, just so she'd marry you."

"I did…I do! It is just that Christine is so…amazingly complex," he said with a sigh. "Do you know that she shared her hot chocolate with me last night?"

"I thought you hated hot chocolate?" he asked quizzically.

"I do…with a passion! Yet, when she offered it to me, I found I could not refuse," Erik spoke in amazement.

"Oh, man, you've got it bad," Amir laughed downing the last of his beer in one final gulp and setting the bottle down. "And here she thinks you have no reason to be jealous."

"What?" Erik asked, eyeing him curiously.

"Let me ask you, Erik, what reasons did you give Christine for wanting to marry her? What exactly did you say were your motives for wishing her to be your wife?" The look on his face made Erik believe this line of questioning went beyond mere curiosity.

"I told her that I wanted a family," he confessed, doing all he could to glam up his proposal. "That I needed an heir to pass on my company to…and would like my child to have a mother in the process."

Amir sat there and stared at Erik like he had lost his mind.

"Please tell me you're kidding," he said at last.

"I am not," Erik huffed. "I was very diplomatic about it. I explained to her all the ways this marriage could benefit her: money, security, a nice home, and assistance in her father's recovery. And I also outlined all the things that I expected from this marriage. It was very practical and well thought out."

"And about as romantic as a hangnail!" Amir burst out. "No wonder the poor girl thinks you don't have any emotional attachment to her! Good God, man, what on earth do you whisper in her ear when you make love to her…quotes from the stock exchange?"

Erik's eyes narrowed and he stared at Amir with murder in his eyes… unfortunately telling the Persian everything he needed to know.

 _"You haven't even slept with her yet?"_ This came out more as a statement than a question, one that left Amir rubbing his face with both his hands as he took in a deep breath.

"Of course I have, we have shared a bed every night since our wedding!" Erik shot back. Yet knowing exactly what his Persian friend had meant by that statement, he felt compelled to add, "We just have not…well, _consummated_ the marriage. I am not some mindless animal, you know! I told Christine that I would give her some time to become accustomed to her new life…and to me, before we became intimate. I offered her a month's reprieve, maybe two."

"Let me get this straight. You tell a woman you want to marry her, for very practical reasons, including the idea that you desire to have a child with her, but you two have yet to make love? Please explain to me how you got her to say yes to all this…because for the sake of my sanity, I truly need to know! Have you at least kissed her?" he asked, a look of humorous disbelief spreading across his face.

"Yes, of course!" Erik insisted. "I kissed her at our wedding! I assume you were watching from some hidden location, keeping an eye on things."

"That I was…but is that all? One kiss? Seriously?" Amir then dissolved into a fit of laughter. "You have a sizzling hot wife, one who apparently shares your bed, and you have yet to truly kiss or make love to her? Erik…what is wrong with you – aside from the obvious."

"If you do not shut the hell up, I swear that I will snap your neck," Erik seethed, his hands aching to silence the man.

"I'm sorry," the Persian chuckled, trying his best to stop, yet he couldn't manage to wipe the goofy grin off his face. "Really, I didn't mean to laugh like that, but come on, even _you_ have to see the ridiculousness of it all. You truly do go about things in a very backwards and strange way, Erik."

"I do things in a manner that gets results," he pointed out. "I wanted Christine as my wife…and I have her as such, do I not?"

"Right, and to you that's all that matters," Amir said, with a roll of his eyes. He then stood up and pushed the chair back under the table, before holding Erik in a stern look. "Now, here's some advice for you. Curb your temper. Think before you speak. And quickly learn to grovel if you ever want her to forgive you."

"I do _not_ grovel!" Erik said with a low growl. "Not for anyone!"

"Then get used to sleeping on the couch, since I feel you'll be doing a lot of that in the near future," Amir huffed. "And for heaven's sake, tell the girl how you feel about her, will ya? How's she ever supposed to warm up to you when you act like a cold fish?"

"I am perfectly capable of handling my own marriage," Erik stated, crossing his arms and giving him an icy stare.

"Wanna bet?" he offered with a raise of his eyebrow. "A hundred bucks says you'll be relegated to the couch or a spare bedroom tonight."

"Normally, I would take that bet, and win," Erik informed. "Yet I have learned that my wife does not appreciate it when I make wagers concerning what she will, or will not, do. So, you can keep your money… _this time_." He then got to his feet and pointed to the door. "And you can also let yourself out the same way you came in… _uninvited_. I have a wife to speak with, and I do not need you hanging around while I do it."

"Been nice knowing you," Amir replied as he headed towards the kitchen door, only to be stopped by Erik's stern voice.

"Amir…I will be more than a bit homicidal if I find you have been abusing your position as bodyguard and ogling my wife," he warned, his icy stare leaving no doubt that he was very serious about his threat.

"You're the one who hired me to watch her," his friend retorted, the humorous grin never leaving his lips. "I'm only doing my job."

"Just keep your eyes trained _above the neck_ , or so help me, you might find my fingers wrapped around yours!" Erik shot back.

"Whatever," he said with another exasperated roll of his eyes. "Enjoy the couch tonight…I'll be back tomorrow to see if I was right." With that he left the room, the sound of his hearty laughter fading as he went.

* * *

 ***face palm* Erik...you did it again. Oh well, we still love you.**

 **How did you like the rose he left on her pillow?**

 **Her talk with Amir?**

 **Amir's talk with Erik? He really has no fear of Erik, does he? I just love our snarky Persian. ha ha.**

 **So...gotta grovel do ya, Erik? Well, best get to it.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Bleaky:** Yep, Mystery Behind the Mask was mine, and I'm sorry I made you freak out over all of it. ha ha. Or did you mean you were freaking out over this one? ha ha. Yep, everyone is back, and her dad is alive, and of course Amir is there to keep them all in line. ha ha. What are pesky Persians for? ha ha. Updates will be happening quite often, so keep a weathered eye out, matey. ha ha. Thanks!

 **Hello it's me:** Glad you liked my last one so much that you were looking forward to my modern day fic. And since I've been gone for 18 months, no one would blame you for not noticing that I was back right away. ha ha. Yes, Erik is funny, but not in a telling jokes kind of way. And he's full of something all right, ha ha *rolls eyes* I do like a spunky Christine...and so does Erik. (wink wink) Very happy you are enjoying it and thanks so much for reading and reviewing.


	14. Chapter 14

.

 **Ok...let's see how Erik digs himself out of this one.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 14**

 **~X~**

* * *

After Amir had gone, Erik remained where he was, slowly finishing his beer and thinking of all the different ways he could apologize _this_ time. He had learned a valuable lesson last time, not to keep things from Christine…and he wondered what he might glean from this little tiff. But lesson learned or not, Erik knew he needed to get up there and do some damage control before things got any worse!

Thinking that lunch might go a long way in appeasing his disgruntled bride, Erik removed the Chinese takeout from the refrigerator and reheated it in the microwave before artfully arranging it on a couple of plates. Finding a serving tray in the cupboard, he grabbed a few bottles of water and headed up the stairs. When he came to their room, he balanced the tray in one hand and knocked at the door.

"Christine…may I come in?" he called out hopefully. When no answer came, he tried again, asking the same question, this time a bit louder.

"I suppose there's no way I can stop you," came her disgruntled reply at last, though it was hardly the one he had been hoping for.

"Christine…I will not enter against your wishes," Erik assured her, knowing that to do so would not aid his efforts to smooth things over with her. "Yet I would like to apologize, and it would be much easier to do so from inside the room, as opposed to through a door. So, may I please come in?" Please was not a word Erik was used to speaking, but with Christine, he knew it was necessary.

Again, there was a moment of silence, followed by a heavy sigh.

"Fine," was all she said, but it was still music to Erik's ears. Twisting the knob, he slowly entered, shutting the door behind him. Christine was sitting in the chair beside the bed, her arms crossed over her chest and refusing to make eye contact.

"I brought you some lunch," he offered, holding up the tray as if it were a peace offering.

"What is it? Bread and water?" she asked, bitterness etched in her tone. "Isn't that the customary meal for a prisoner?"

Erik flinched slightly…perhaps he deserved that.

"No, it is Chinese food. Orange chicken, fried rice, and eggrolls," he informed her, setting the tray down on the nightstand, before taking a seat on the bed across from her. "Christine, I am very sorry I lost my temper, and the last thing I ever meant to do was to make you feel confined, or think you must get my permission to do anything around here. I was just…well…I did not know where you had gone, and I…"

"Lost your mind? Flipped out? Went insane?" Christine broke in, offering a few suggestions that had been flittering around in her brain.

"I _overreacted_ ," he corrected, his jaw tightening at her rather unsavory description of how he had behaved.

"Oh, really…well if this is how you _overreact_ , then I would truly hate to see you upset!" Christine accused bitterly, finally turning her eyes to meet his. "Did it ever occur to you to look around a bit before you flew off the handle?"

"I did!" he spoke in defense. "I looked all over the house, and even called your phone…which was still in your purse, and not on your person, in order to alleviate my concerns."

"I'm expected to carry that blasted tracking device everywhere I go now?" she asked in shock. "Why don't you just implant me with one of those chips they use to locate lost pets?"

"Now you are simply being foolish," Erik scolded, his dander raised from the dressing down she was giving him. Yet seeing that this was getting them nowhere, he chose instead to extend the olive branch of peace, and after a heavy sigh, he spoke the words he had intended when he first came up. "Christine, I fully admit that I was out of line, and that I should not have spoken to you in such a harsh manner."

"No, you shouldn't have!" she huffed.

"As I said…I was wrong." Truly, this took much for Erik to admit, for not often had he been required to say such things, especially out loud. "I have no excuse for my actions, other than the fact that I was…worried."

"Worried about what?" Christine asked, still not at all sure why he had blown up the way he did. "Did you honestly think I'd run off…that I'd chosen to disregard the contract I'd signed, and simply left?"

When Erik looked away, not willing to meet her questioning stare, her heart skipped a beat. That _was_ what he had feared…that she had abandoned him. His words the other night, about how he longed for companionship, came back to her and suddenly she understood.

Erik had been alone most of his life…exactly _why_ she had no idea, and perhaps this was not the time to ask about it either, but he obviously didn't wish it to be that way any longer. Her not being there when he arrived home had frightened him, causing him to lash out. While Christine didn't appreciate Erik's reaction, she found that she could understand, now, where it was coming from. And though she had no intention of tolerating this sort of behavior, her heart was moved to forgiveness. Leaning forward she reached out and placed her hand gently on his knee, causing his head to whip back, his eyes instantly riveted on the place she was touching.

"Erik…I'm not going anywhere," Christine told him quietly. She could see how even this small amount of contact was affecting him, and she began to wonder if what Amir had said could possibly be true. Yet so far, Erik had not revealed that he wanted anything more than what had been outlined in the contract. Simply a family and companionship. In fact, he had even stated that he had no illusions of love playing a factor in their marriage. However, had this stipulation been by choice, or did it stem from his assumption that she could never return such feelings? Christine would need time to think more on this. "I'm a woman of my word, and I promised that I would fulfill the obligations I agreed to. The only reason I would have left was if I felt you had broken the guarantee you gave me about my safety."

"I would _never_ harm you, Christine, you must believe me," he insisted, at last able to remove his eyes from where she was still touching him.

"So far I do," she nodded. "However, I will _not_ stand for you speaking to me in a harsh manner either. Perhaps you're used to addressing your employees or business associates this way, but I'm your wife, and I deserve better."

"I understand, and I completely agree," Erik nodded, giving no argument to her assertion. "I have recently been informed that what I say can be as harmful as knives, and I would never wish to cause you pain, Christine. Never! Thus, I most humbly apologize for my words and the tone I used to express them. I will endeavor to learn from this mistake and see that it will never be repeated. I do not think of you as my prisoner, Christine, and I certainly do not want you to _feel_ that you are. I will attempt to keep my mind from immediately jumping to the worst case scenario next time."

"Well, now that I'm aware that you tend to be… _overly concerned_ , perhaps I can be more considerate and leave a note or something should I decide to wander off. That way, we might be able to avoid there _being_ a next time," she offered, a small grin touching her lips at last.

"I would greatly appreciate such a gesture," Erik said with a sigh of relief. "I must admit that I am still very new to this…and I fear that I will continue to make mistakes."

"I think we both will," she told him with a resolute nod. "Even the best of marriages have their rocky moments, and seeing that ours is on the more _unconventional_ side, we are bound to rub each other the wrong way, or step on the other's toes. It's how we deal with the situation that will determine if we are going to be able to get along."

"Yet so far, it would appear that _I_ am the one treading all over your dancing shoes, Christine," Erik pointed out.

"Give me time…I'm sure I'll do my fair share of things that annoy you, and find the need to apologize," she assured him with a small laugh.

"And I will offer my forgiveness with the same grace and generosity as you are now," Erik said with a grateful smile. "Have I once again been pardoned for my error, Christine?"

She stared at him for a few moments, mulling over the sincerity of his apology, as well as the look of hope reflecting in his eyes, and decided she was satisfied. A more vindictive wife might have made him work harder for forgiveness, yet that was not the way Christine would like him to treat her, so why should she act any different?

"Yes, Erik, I forgive you," she nodded, her words bringing an instant smile to his face. "Now…did you say something about Chinese food?"

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The rest of the day went much better, with the two of them spending a great deal of time in the music room. Thanks to Erik's encouragement and direction, her voice was growing stronger, and Christine was at last starting to feel like she might have a chance at her audition after all. Apparently Janet did not come on the weekends to clean, but Mrs. Murphy arrived right on schedule and dinner had been delicious as usual. When they finished with dessert, Erik and Christine retired to the entertainment room where after looking through his extensive video collection, she picked out a movie for them both to watch. Erik had said that he didn't care what she chose, and gave no complaints when it turned out to be a chick-flick, as she so eloquently put it.

They sat together on the couch, she at one end, he at the other, but still, just being in the same room afforded Erik the sense of companionship he desperately craved. He found the movie to be a bit improbable, but when he looked over at his wife while the credits were rolling, and saw her wiping away a few stray tears, he suddenly gave the film more credence.

"You are crying," he stated, reaching into his pocket to pull out a clean handkerchief, passing it over to her.

"Of course I am," she sniffed, smiling through her tears. "I just love happy endings."

"Yes, the fact that they were able to overcome so many obstacles in their relationship was commendable," he nodded, making a few mental notes about how the hero in the movie had accomplished this. "Though I do not enjoy seeing you upset like this…so perhaps we should stick to comedies or action films from now on."

"These are happy tears, not ones of sadness," she corrected him, laughing at the look of determination in his eyes. "It's healthy to cry at movies and stuff, that way you don't bottle up your feelings. They give you an outlet for your emotions before something truly bad happens, and you go spiraling off the deep end. At least that's what my father always told me," she added with a shrug.

"Very well, I will bow to his wisdom on the subject," Erik nodded, deciding that to argue the point any further might upset her more than she already was. And he really did not need a distraught wife just as they were heading for bed. "I am glad you enjoyed the movie."

"I did, but next time, _you_ get to pick what we watch," she smiled, handing him back his somewhat dampened handkerchief. "Just don't make it too much of a shoot-em up flick. I don't do well with blood and gore."

"I will keep that in mind," he assured her as he picked up the remote and turned off the television and Blu-ray player. "Shall we retire for the evening? We have only one more day of practice before your interview, and I intend to make full use of it."

"Yes…please," she nodded, rising to her feet. Erik extended his hand to lead her out of the room, but she paused, looking up at his face instead. "I want to thank you again for all you are doing to help me prepare. I'm very impressed by your knowledge and skill…and, well, I want you to know how grateful I am."

"You are my wife, Christine," Erik pointed out, as if that one fact made all her words unnecessary. "I will always do everything I can to help you achieve your goals, and make you happy."

"Well, it's been a while since I had anyone willing…or at least _capable_ , of doing that," she told him in a low tone, never taking her eyes off his. "And it's very nice of you to offer." With that she reached out her own hand, taking his as he wordlessly escorted her upstairs.

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Once they were both in bed, Christine happily in her flannels and T-shirt, Erik lay there staring at the ceiling through the darkness. He had two things on his mind tonight, and both brought a smile to his lips. First, he had learned a little bit more about the inner-workings of his wife's mind. Christine did not respond well to being yelled at, nor was she the type to spitefully hold a grudge once a heartfelt apology had been given. She also had a tender side which caused her to cry at sappy movies, assuring him that he had indeed chosen his mate wisely. They say that often one learns more from their mistakes than their successes…well, Erik was certainly being educated on both fronts, and he looked forward to discovering even more about his pretty little bride.

The second thing he had to smile about, was the fact that he was currently reclining in his own bed, and not on the couch or banished to a spare room. Just imagining the look on the Persian's face when he told him of this was enough to cause his wicked smile to grow in proportion. Erik was definitely looking forward to tomorrow.

.

.

However, much to Erik's displeasure, after he and Christine had shared a delightful breakfast, Amir's appearance ended up not being as entertaining as he had hoped. When the Persian came knocking at the back door, he wore a frown, one that told Erik he was not going to like what he had to say.

"What?" Erik asked, the moment the glass door was opened and he stepped inside.

Amir took a moment to look around the room, obviously checking to see if they were alone. When he saw that Christine was nowhere in sight, he leaned in and whispered his news.

"I just got a call…they want us to meet right away," he said.

"Now?" Erik was not happy about this at all. He had plans…very important ones involving Christine, and he hated to see them altered in any way.

"They said it was important and it couldn't wait," Amir assured him.

"Damn!" Erik cursed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. When he had agreed to all this, it had expressly been so that he could have Christine. Well, what good was it to _have_ her if he could not spend any time _with_ her? Still…there was no going back now – not with so much at stake. "Fine, go pull the Porsche out of the garage and tell Gerald that he is to come in and help Christine move the boxes out of the sun room while we are gone. I want him to keep an eye on her, but I don't want her to think that she is being watched."

"I thought you promised not to keep things from your wife again," Amir reminded.

"I am not…she knows Gerald lives here and it is somewhat his job to cater to her," he insisted, knowing he was splitting hairs a bit, but this was an emergency. "I will tell Christine that I have to run out for a bit, and meet you in the driveway." Assuming he was dismissed, Amir turned to leave, but Erik's voice halted him. "Oh…but before you go," his tone becoming smug. "I will have you know that I spent last night in my own bed, beside my wife, just as I told you I would."

"Really?" Amir's eyebrow shot up in surprise. "You weren't regulated to the couch or the spare room?"

"No, I was not," Erik stated proudly.

"I have to say…your powers of persuasion never cease to amaze me," the Persian laughed, shaking his head in wonder.

"And that is why I am CEO of Phantom Industries…and you are not," Erik pointed out. "Now get going, I want this over and done with so I can get back here to my wife and our lazy Sunday afternoon."

.

.

Unfortunately things didn't quite go like Erik had planned, and their clandestine meeting took longer than he had hoped. The sun was setting behind the hills by the time he and Amir drove through the electric gates and up the long driveway. The news had not been good, and even his friend knew better than to try and engage Erik in conversation on their way back, both men choosing to remain silent, mulling over what they had learned. It wasn't until they were sitting in the garage with the car no longer running that Amir chose to speak.

"Just keep looking at the big picture here, Erik," he told him encouragingly.

"The big picture?" he asked, turning his eyes to the man beside him. "The only _picture_ I have in mind involves me and Christine…nothing else matters. I will not put her life in danger, and if this all goes south…"

"It won't," Amir stated firmly, not allowing his friend's mind to head in that dangerous direction.

"No, it won't!" Erik stated firmly, his eyes taking on a stern glint. "Because I won't let it!" And with that he got out of the car and stormed into the house, leaving the befuddled Persian alone with his thoughts.

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When Erik entered, he was instantly greeted by the sound of Christine's laughter, and all the tension he had been holding melted away. He followed the voices and made his way to the sun-room, finding his adorable little wife directing Gerald as to where things should be placed. All the boxes had been moved to a secure, yet out of the way location, allowing the room to once again be used for entertaining guests. Gerald was standing on a step ladder, placing an old antique clock on a high shelf, with Christine insisting that it was too far to the left.

"A moment ago you said it was too far to the right," he argued, moving it over with a huff.

"It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind, you know," Christine laughed, suddenly spotting Erik as he came into the room. "You're back!"

This announcement almost had Gerald toppling off the stool as he attempted to turn around and see with whom his charge was speaking. When he saw it was his boss, he climbed down and with a knowing nod, gladly turned the duty of guarding her back to Erik.

"If that's the last knick-knack, Mrs. Thorn, I'll retire for the evening," he told her, looking hopeful at the prospect.

"Yes, and thank you for your help today," she smiled, knowing that she had truly put the man through his paces with all her requests and demands. "I'll see you tomorrow though, it's a big day!"

"Yes, Ma'am," Gerald smiled, knowing just how excited Christine was about her audition. "Goodnight." He nodded once more at Erik as he passed. "Have a good evening, Sir."

"Thank you, Gerald," Erik told him as the man headed out, leaving the two of them behind.

"Did your business meeting go well?" Christine asked, picking up a little bundle of bubble wrap and stuffing it in the wastebasket.

Erik noted that she did not seem overly upset about him abandoning her for most of the day, and while he was glad of it, he was also a bit disappointed that Christine did not appear to have missed him either.

"It is over, and that is all I can say I have to be happy about," he muttered, walking over and collapsing in a nearby chair.

"That bad, huh?" she consoled sympathetically.

"Nothing I have not dealt with before…or will again, I am sure," he sighed. "But I do not wish to discuss it any further. Instead, tell me what you did while I was out."

"Just cleared away my boxes, hung up some more of my clothes, and then Gerald was kind enough to assist me by putting out some of my treasures," she revealed, gesturing to several new additions to the sun-room walls.

"They look nice," Erik complimented, enjoying the idea that there were a few more feminine touches in the house. He was a bit worried over what other articles of clothing she had salvaged from her old life and managed to squirrel away upstairs. Perhaps he should have asked the moving company to have _accidentally_ lost that particular box. Not that he begrudged Christine a few outfits that had sentimental value, but neither did he want to see her revert back to her rather hobo style of dressing. It had been cute on a starving waitress, but highly inappropriate for the wife of a multi-billion dollar businessman. He wanted to dress Christine in style – to have everyone who saw her sit up and take notice. Well…maybe not _too_ much notice, after all, Erik deemed her figure for his eyes only!

"Are you hungry, Erik?" Christine asked rather suddenly.

He was a bit startled by her inquiry, having been lost in his thoughts, but he managed to answer. "Yes…I must admit that I am," he nodded.

"Good!" Christine grinned. "Gerald told me that Sundays are Mrs. Murphy's day off, so while he was moving things for me, I whipped up a quick lasagna and put it in the oven."

A warm smile touched Erik's lips as the vision of his wife in the kitchen played across his mind. The idea of Christine cooking him a meal was exactly the domestic bliss he had often dreamed about. And while he would never insist that she be required to do such things on a daily basis, it was very touching that she chose to do so of her own free will.

"It should be done any time now," Christine continued, completely oblivious to Erik's happy fantasy. "And I thought we might have dinner before my final singing lesson, if that's all right with you."

"Just because you will be auditioning tomorrow, does not mean that we will be curtailing our nightly lessons, Christine," Erik firmly corrected her. "I plan on overseeing your vocal instruction for the foreseeable future. You may be taking lessons from the professors at Juilliard, but I will not be relinquishing control of your voice. Only I can see that it is tuned to perfection, and if you think I would leave such an incredible instrument in the hands of amateurs…then you are sadly mistaken."

"Amateurs?" she questioned, a bit shocked by his derisive statement. "But… _this is Juilliard_!"

"And I will acknowledge that they have some familiarity on the subject of music and voice," Erik graciously offered. "Yet if you are to one day sing _my_ music, Christine…you will continue to take your direction from me."

"Your music?" While she willingly admitted that he truly knew his craft…she had not imagined that he was a composer as well. Although…had he not written the amazing piece she was to be singing tomorrow?

"It is hardly common knowledge, but yes, I have been working on a few rather elaborate pieces, which I hope to one day compile to create my very own opera," Erik told her, doing his best not to appear as prideful as he was. "And when I finish it, you shall be the one to sing it, Christine. Your voice is a marvel, my dear, and I would never allow anyone else but you to perform my work."

Christine did not know what to say…she was literally speechless. It was one thing to have Erik tell her she was talented, but to now express his desire to have her sing his own compositions? She was truly flattered, but suddenly she worried that she might not do them justice.

"I…thank you, Erik…that is very…" she stammered, her words rather inadequate for the compliments that had just been bestowed upon her.

"Yet that will be far in the future, and as you said before, it is best we take things one day at a time. Tomorrow, however, will be a very big day for you," he said, pointing out the obvious, "So I suggest we go sample your pasta dish and get to work on your rehearsal. For come ten o'clock in the morning…you will be dazzling the world."

Christine's breath caught in her throat, and she did her best to swallow her fears.

Oh, heaven help her!

* * *

 **Yep, tomorrow's a very big day Christine!**

 **Well, Erik was able to grovel rather well, and I think they even bonded over all this...just a little.**

 **Oh dear...what is going on with Erik and those calls he keeps getting. He does not sound happy about them.**

 **Awwww, movie night, how sweet.**

 **And while one might feel that after 14 chapters they should be lip-locked by now, you have to realize only less than a week has gone by for Erik and Christine! This is all still very new for them...I promise in time things will progress, but it can't happen over night. Erik don't learn that fast! ha ha.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Emmy 6:** Yes, Amir is a doll, and one would wonder why no girl has snatched him up before now. Hmmmm, wonder why that is? *wink wink* More on that later. And Erik is working his way to smart-hood. It just takes time...he must grow as a person during the story in order to find his - and Christine's - happy ending. Thanks.

 **Hello it's me:** Oh yes, I do so love writing Amir's lines, he is such a fun character. And he and Erik do have some fun banter. Thanks.


	15. Chapter 15

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 **BONUS CHAPTER!**

 **(I'll still post the usual one on Monday, but it might be later in the day though.)**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 15**

 **~X~**

* * *

Despite Erik's assurance that she was more than ready, when morning came, Christine could not shake the anxious feelings that continued to plague her. She had barely touched her breakfast, and when Erik readied himself to depart for work, she stood in the foyer wringing her hands together in panic.

"You're not coming with me?" Christine asked, not even sure why she had expected that he might, but disheartened by the idea that she would be facing this alone. _When had she suddenly come to depend on him for support?_ After all, they had only met a little over a month ago, and been husband and wife for hardly a week. Still...the thought of Erik not being there was indeed a blow.

 _How very strange._

 _._

Erik could see the fear in Christine's eyes, causing him to stop what he was doing and come to stand in front of her. Reaching up, he dared to place his finger beneath her chin, tipping her face towards him as he spoke.

"Of course I will be there, Christine," he assured her. "I would not miss this for anything. Yet it would be rather suspicious if you and I walked in together, would it not? Thus, I will arrive separately and observe from a safe distance, doing my best not to interfere with your audition. You did wish to gain their acceptance upon your own merit, did you not?"

"Yes…I did...I mean, I do," she agreed, feeling her face flush just a bit from the slight contact of his skin upon hers. "I…I'm just really nervous is all."

"You have no reason to be," Erik told her, wishing with all his heart he could lean down and kiss her slightly trembling lips. Yet it would be best if he allowed her to make the first move in _that_ direction…at least until the time limit was up. After that, well, Erik was not sure what might happen, but if the feelings he was currently fighting got any stronger, then all bets were off. "Now," he said, clearing his throat and stepping away out of self-preservation, "I think you should go get ready. Gerald will be waiting out front, and you do not want to be tardy. First impressions are key, and late students are not looked upon favorably by the teachers."

"What if I bring them an apple?" she asked, giving a nervous laugh in attempt to soothe her worries.

"I would prefer that I be the only one you choose to tempt with such forbidden fruit, my dear," Erik replied, giving her a heated stare as he grabbed his briefcase and the keys to the car. "Or any other sinful offers, for that matter."

Christine's smile instantly faded and her eyes grew wide; yet to Erik, it did not seem to have been caused solely by fear. In fact, if he had to guess, the slight blush on her cheeks and the darkening of her eyes almost appeared to be similar to …excitement?

 _Very interesting._

Yet, in order to not spoil the moment, Erik quickly turned and headed out the garage door, calling back over his shoulder that he would see her later. Once in the car, he opened the large wooden door and drove down the driveway at a high rate of speed, the blood in his veins pumping wildly at the thought that there truly might have been some spark in her eyes at his suggestive statement. It was a small thing, barely a chance to hope…and yet Erik would take anything he could get.

.

Christine stood there as she watched him drive away, wondering exactly what odd sensation was spreading through her chest. Why had Erik's comment caused her to freeze like that? Why had she not instead given him some glib and witty response, or at best delivered him a strong reprimand for hinting at such things before she was ready? Shaking her head, Christine tried to convince herself that she had only reacted that way out of fear that any confrontation this morning would simply distract her from the audition, which was not something she could afford. And yet…why was she not upset or scandalized by what he said?

 _Interesting._

Still, she could not be bothered to analyze this now. No, at this moment she needed to concentrate on getting herself ready and off to Juilliard with enough time to warm up her voice. Otherwise she would croak like a toad and ruin all of Erik's well-meant and thought-out plans. People like her were not handed opportunities like this every day…and Christine was determined to grab hold with both hands.

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"Would you like me to escort you inside, Mrs. Thorn?" Gerald asked, turning around and speaking to the girl in the backseat. All the way there, he had kept the privacy window up, yet he could not help but overhear as she warmed up her voice, running through scales and bits of songs. Gerald was no musical expert, but even he knew a good voice when he heard one, so he was a bit shocked to see how pale and nervous the boss' wife appeared to be.

"No…thank you, Gerald," she whispered, leaning to her right as she stared out the window at the school that loomed before her. "And I wish you would call me Christine."

"No can do, Mrs. Thorn," he laughed, shaking his head. "I rather like my job, ma'am, and my nose directly in the middle of my face."

"How would _you_ feel if I stopped calling you Gerald, and referred to you only by _your_ last name?" she questioned, obviously looking for anything, even an argument, to distract her from her jitters.

"Go right ahead," he offered, a wide grin spreading across his face.

It was at that moment that Christine realized that she had no idea _what_ his last name was! Erik had only ever referred to him as Gerald, and she had never had the foresight, or the manners, to ask.

"What _is_ your last name, Gerald?" she questioned, feeling a bit foolish.

"I'm not going to tell you, Mrs. Thorn," he replied, looking rather smug with himself. "So, I guess that means until you find out, you'll just _have_ to call me Gerald."

"Mr. Stubborn Britches is a better name for you, I think!" she huffed, crossing her arms and staring at the large man with narrowed eyes.

"Well, that's a new one," he nodded thoughtfully. "Though, of all the nicknames I've earned so far, I think I prefer Snuggle Bear - which is what my girlfriend, Charlotte, calls me. However, I think we both know that it would be unwise for you to use _that_ particular moniker…given who you're currently married to and all."

"Yes…I must agree with you on that," Christine laughed, the action helping her release a lot of her pent-up nerves, allowing her to smile despite her fears.

"Now…I think it's about time you quit stalling and get in there. Show them what you're made of, Mrs. Thorn," he encouraged, giving her a playful wink – an action that looked rather out of place on such a burly man.

Taking a deep breath and giving him a confident nod, Christine pulled open the car door and got out, not daring to stop for one moment as she headed inside, afraid she might turn tail and run.

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As she entered the lobby area she spotted a kind looking woman behind the desk, smiling up at her in anticipation.

"Are you here for auditions today?" she asked.

"Yes…I am," she stammered. _Auditions?_ There was more than just her trying out? "My name is Christine…Christine Daaé."

"Daaé?" the woman mused, looking at a piece of paper in front of her. "Ah yes, here we are, Christine Daaé. You'll be performing in room 106, for professors Reiner and Stanley. It's just down the hall on your left. Go on in, wait near the bottom of the stage, and when your name is called, head on up and give your music to the accompanist. You'll be signaled when to begin."

"Anything else I need to know?" Christine asked, clutching her purse strap nervously.

"Don't freeze up," the lady replied good-naturedly, noticing how the young girl's hands were shaking. "Just relax…I'm sure you'll do fine."

"Thank you." Christine appreciated the little vote of confidence, but she was certain the woman said that to everyone. So with a final nod, she headed down the hallway, looking for the correct door. It did not take long and she soon found herself in a small auditorium, with a couple dozen rows of theater seats. There were four men sitting in the front, conferring with each other as a timid looking young man stood center stage, appearing as if he were about to wet his pants. Doing her best not to make a sound, Christine walked down the side row and stood next to another woman at the base of the steps leading to the platform.

"Is this where we wait for auditions?" she whispered to the rather buxom redhead who looked to be only a few years older than herself.

"Shhh!" the lady hissed, giving Christine a stern look. "Are you trying to get us in trouble?"

Shutting her mouth and pursing her lips, Christine shook her head as the woman inspected her up and down, appraising her with judging eyes, before looking away.

 _Well…that was rather rude,_ Christine thought to herself as she leaned her back against the wall and tried to not feel overly insulted. Just then the young man who had been on stage was dismissed and he practically ran down the steps and out of the auditorium, a look of utter disappointment on his face. Christine got the impression that his audition had not gone like he had hoped, raising her anxiety level to the maximum.

"Next!" hollered one of the men, just before he let loose a loud sneeze, reaching into his suit pocket and taking out a handkerchief. "Damn allergies! Does anyone have a Zyrtec or some Claritin on them?" When no one spoke up or offered him any medication, he gave a disgruntled huff and waved his hand towards the two girls standing at the base of the stage. "Is there a Miss Carlotta De'Rossi here? If so, please go on up."

Christine watched the shushy woman beside her smile broadly, displaying a mouth full of perfectly capped teeth, as she flounced up the steps. Christine could not help but roll her eyes as she watched her flamboyant display, taking an instant dislike to this stranger. Yet she didn't have much time to dwell on this, for at that moment, the exit door of the auditorium opened, allowing the back-lighting to silhouette a very familiar figure.

Erik had arrived!

Once more Christine felt that odd sensation wash over her, that tingle down deep inside that both thrilled and confused her. Why the mere knowledge of his presence did this to her was a mystery, but suddenly she felt just a little more confident…a little more sure of herself. She quelled the urge to wave, knowing that to draw attention to him would possibly ruin her chances of remaining anonymous. Yet she couldn't help but smile as he entered from the back and quietly took a seat in the second to the last row, sitting on the aisle as he observed the goings on.

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Erik placed his elbows on the armrests and tented his fingers in front of his lips, surveying the auditorium as if he were sizing up an opponent. The two professors below were ones he recognized as George Reiner and Ronald Stanley, both well known for their expertise in musical arts. The other two men he had only seen a few times, recalling that he had been introduced to them as board members, yet he had not bothered to expend the effort to remember their names. However, it was the woman on stage that caused his eyebrows to raise in surprise beneath his mask. _Now…exactly why did she look familiar?_

Before he could sift through his brain and identify this mystery woman, Erik felt – rather than saw – Amir take a seat behind him.

"Trying to figure out who she is, aren't you?" Amir asked, as if reading his friend's mind.

"Should I be worried?" Erik questioned, never taking his eyes off of the girl.

"The last time we saw her was almost eight years ago," Amir prompted. "At that dinner party thrown by Joseph De'Rossi…remember?"

Erik's eyes grew wide and then narrowed as he did indeed recall that night. It was not one he would soon forget.

"She's his niece, isn't she? The one that got up and sang until my ears almost bled!" Erik hissed with a great deal of distaste. His reaction was not only due to the connection with her uncle, but the fact that Erik had been forced to sit through almost an hour of listening to that vain teenager butcher every song she had attempted. He wondered if she had improved any since then, though he seriously doubted it. "She has aged a bit since then…and not for the better, if you ask me." What on earth was _she_ doing auditioning at Juilliard? When Erik had arranged for Christine to be seen, he had known there were already others scheduled for the same day, but he had never dreamed that this harpy might be one of them.

"Carlotta De'Rossi," Amir nodded, leaning forward and resting his arms on the back of the chair next to Erik. "Let's just hope she doesn't get in…since it might make things rather dicey for Christine, especially after word gets around who she's married to."

"Thankfully, at the present, Christine is listed under the name Daaé," Erik nodded, taking note of Amir's hesitancy. "We will just have to deal with the repercussions as they come. It is nothing I can't handle."

Their conversation was halted by what Erik could only describe at the sound of a cat being pulled backwards through a keyhole, emanating from the woman's mouth on stage. Cringing, Erik leaned back and turned his head slightly, attempting to shield himself from the onslaught of piercing notes that struck his ears. Oh, it was atrocious! The only thing that made him smile about the performance was the look of pure horror on Christine's face as he watched her from his seat. At least his little wife had good taste, and knew a bullfrog when she heard one. He only hoped the professors did as well.

.

.

When she was finished, Carlotta stood on the stage with a triumphant grin, staring down at the men in the front row as if she expected them to fall at her feet. Erik was surprised they had not gagged!

"Thank you, Miss De'Rossi," Professor Stanley said after a very long and uncomfortable pause. "We will notify you with our decision by e-mail later this week."

"E-mail?" she shrieked, her face suddenly turning red with anger. "You will tell me now, or I will have your jobs!"

"Miss, please do not make a scene," the other professor, Mr. Reiner, insisted, stopping twice to sneeze and wipe his nose.

"Oh, I'll not make a scene," Carlotta told them, her demeanor turning almost cold and deadly. "However, my uncle, Joseph De'Rossi, might…and I don't think you'd want to anger your most prominent board member and long standing supporter…now would you?"

Erik's eyes narrowed as he watched the four men below become nervous and speak to each other in hushed tones, looking rather fearful of the open threat they had just been given. Erik had had plenty of run-ins with Joe De'Rossi and he knew that while the man could not touch or intimidate him…he could not say the same for the rest of New York. Thus, he was quite surprised when instead of bowing to her temper tantrum and threats, they held firm.

"Miss De'Rossi," Ronald Stanley said in a very even and firm tone. "This is Juilliard…here we only admit the best and the brightest. And while your voice is… _quite_ _unique_ …we simply cannot offer you a place here at the moment. Perhaps if you continued with some private tutoring, or lessons somewhere else, and resubmitted your application at a later time? Maybe then…?"

Erik scoffed, knowing that the man had purposefully left the sentence unfinished, not willing to commit to anything. However, this did not sit well with Carlotta at all.

"HOW DARE YOU!" she screamed, making everyone flinch at her rather boisterous protest. "No one says no to Carlotta De'Rossi! You will all pay dearly for this insult, my uncle will see to that! You have not heard the last of me, let me guarantee you!" She then stormed off the stage, her arms flailing in anger as she went, causing Christine to have to plaster herself up against the wall in order to avoid being struck as she passed.

"Dear Lord, I can only pray that's the last we hear from her," Reiner whispered to his colleagues. "I don't think my ears could take another audition!"

Erik and Amir almost burst out laughing at the sight of the fuming Carlotta stomping up the far aisle like an angry wildebeest, but they were instantly silenced when Christine's name was called.

"Is there a Miss Christine Daaé here?" Stanley asked, looking at the paper in his hand.

"Yes, I'm here," she called, speaking up as she raised her hand like a child in school.

"Take the stage please," he instructed, not even bothering to look up as she did so. Following the directions the woman outside had given her, Christine walked over to the person at the piano and handed him the music Erik had printed out. She then took her place in the center, waiting patiently, if not nervously, for further instructions.

"Daaé…Daaé…" Professor Reiner repeated, as if trying to place the name. "Are you perhaps related to the violinist, Charles Daaé?"

"Yes, sir," Christine nodded, a smile of pride springing to her lips. Her father had worked at the Met for a long time and had built quite a reputation, often being recognized for his talents in the more artistic circles. "He's my father."

"And yet you are auditioning for the vocal department, not for violin?" Stanley asked.

"I fear that I did not inherit his talent with that particular instrument," she chuckled, her cheeks tinting just a bit. "Yet I hope when you hear me sing, I will not be too much of a disappointment to you."

"We hope the same thing, Miss Daaé," Reiner chuckled, sneezing three more times into his handkerchief. "So please, show us what you have so we can end this for the day, and I can go find some allergy pills!"

Taking that as her signal to begin, even if it was a rather unorthodox one, Christine nodded to the pianist and he started to play. She had to cringe just a bit when the man hit a few wrong notes, obviously not as skilled as Erik, but she was able to come in on the right cue.

Erik held his breath, not for fear of her failing, but in sheer joy as he watched his darling Christine shine in the way he knew only she could. Her voice was strong, her breathing was perfect, and each note was a blessing to his ears. Easily soothing the damage that had previously been done by that wretched Carlotta. Erik found himself mouthing the words along with her, his fingers tapping out the rhythm on his leg as the song wound to its conclusion, leaving the auditorium in stunned silence. Yet the stillness was broken when all four men in the front row stood up and began to applaud enthusiastically.

From the back row, Erik could not contain his feelings of pride and satisfaction as he watched Christine take a step back in shock, not having expected such a reaction. And though she might not have predicted such a response, Erik certainly had…or at least he assumed that would be the outcome if those fools had any brains at all.

"Wonderful! Simply wonderful," Professor Stanley praised her, tucking his papers under his arm so he could continue clapping.

"Yes, indeed!" Reiner agreed, stepping up onto the stage and taking hold of Christine's hand as he shook it warmly. "I think we can say without reservations that you will be starting classes next week for sure. Do you have all your paperwork filled out…have you chosen which classes you wish to take? I do hope you will be attending mine, Miss Daaé."

"I don't know what to say…other than, thank you very much," she stammered, the elderly gentleman still enthusiastically pumping her arm up and down in a congratulatory handshake. "I haven't had a chance to pick my curriculum, for I didn't want to put the cart before the horse, so to speak. How long do I have to decide?"

"You may begin attending as early as next Monday, so it would be helpful if you could firm up your selection by Thursday at the latest," Ronald Stanley informed her from below. "I'm pretty sure whichever classes you choose we will be able to get you in, especially after the spectacular performance you just gave. Where have you been hiding yourself, Miss Daaé? Have you had any formal training?"

"I took some classes at NJCU about a year ago…but I have also been given some private lessons as well," she told them, wishing she could credit Erik by name, yet knowing it was best to allow him to remain anonymous.

"Well, their loss is our gain," George Reiner stated, waving off her words as if they no longer mattered. He then let out another loud sneeze, followed closely behind by three more, causing Christine to tug her hand out of his grasp and take a step back. "Please forgive me, I really need to find some allergy pills. But if you would wait around for just a few minutes longer, I'll be right back with several brochures outlining many of the classes we offer…I'll be sure to circle all the ones that _I_ teach." He then hurried off the stage, wiping his nose and sniffling loudly. The rest of the men began to talk amongst themselves, leaving Christine unsure what she should do. The lights aimed at the stage were rather bright and she was unable to see if Erik was still in the auditorium, for anything past the first three rows were shadowed and appeared black.

To busy herself, she walked back over to the accompanist to retrieve her music, the young man offering her his congratulations on a job well done. After thanking him, she moved over to the side of the stage, hoping to be able to spot Erik. Yet before she could step down out of the lights, she saw a young lady making her way towards her. She was probably close to Christine's age, maybe a year or two younger, with long blond hair held out of her eyes by a bright pink scrunchie in the back. She had wide expressive eyes and a smile that seemed oddly familiar.

"Hello!" she greeted Christine warmly. "My name's Meg! I caught the last half of your performance, and I have to say, you were amazing!"

"Oh…thank you," Christine replied, not quite sure how else to respond. Yet when the girl stepped closer, leaning in just a bit to whisper almost conspiratorially, she felt a bit unnerved by her actions.

"You're _her_ , aren't you?" the girl asked, keeping her voice low enough so that her words would not carry. "You're Christine Thorn."

Christine couldn't help but let out a gasp, eyeing the girl as if she were a spy or something.

"How…how do you…" she was not sure what else to say, or if she should say anything at all.

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," Meg told her, her wide grin returning to her face. "My mother told me you'd be here today and asked me to keep an eye out for you. I know what it's like to be new here, so I thought I'd make sure to welcome you aboard."

"Your mother?" Christine asked, staring at the girl for a few moments more. "And who would that be?"

"Antoinette Giry, of course," she laughed, watching as Christine's eyes grew wide with surprise. "I take it she never mentioned me, or the fact that I went to school here as well?"

"No…she didn't," she stammered. "Yet, to be fair, I haven't spoken with your mother since before I knew I would be auditioning…so there was no reason for her to mention it the last time we talked."

"Well, never mind, we've met now and I can tell that we'll get along famously," the younger girl said with a chuckle. "Mostly since you'll be studying voice, and I'm majoring in dance. That way we can support each other without there being any kind of competition!"

"How long have you been attending Juilliard?" Christine asked, suddenly feeling much more comfortable around the enthusiastic spitfire.

"Two years now," she informed her. "And believe me, I know I have your husband to thank for it. Even with my mother's salary, she would be hard pressed to afford the tuition here without help from the great and powerful Mr. Thorn."

"You make him sound like the Wizard of Oz," Christine laughed.

"Oh, no," Meg replied in a somewhat awestruck tone. "Erik Thorn is much more powerful than a mere wizard, and ten times smarter too."

"Really…you don't say?" Christine was not sure if Meg was teasing her…or deadly serious.

"Well, _you_ married him, I'd think you would've figured _that_ out already," the young woman laughed, her expression melting into one of pure delight.

"I'm beginning to get the drift," Christine agreed, joining in the mirth.

Just then the side door to the auditorium opened and Professor Reiner came back in, waving the pamphlets in his hand as he approached.

"Well, I better go," Meg told her, leaning in and giving Christine a warm hug. "I look forward to seeing more of you, both at school and socially. I'll have Mother give me your cell number, and I'll text you about meeting for lunch on Monday!" With a friendly wave, the exuberant girl took off, heading out of the auditorium.

 _Well…she's outgoing,_ Christine laughed to herself, before turning her attention back to the professor.

Once she was given enough information to choke a horse, as well as a stack of forms she had to fill out and return, Christine was at last able to make her way up the aisle towards the exit door. She was somewhat disappointed to find that Erik was no longer sitting in his seat, but again, she had to remind herself that they had decided to keep their association with one another a secret… _for now_. It did her heart, and pride, good though, to know that she achieved her goal on merit alone, and not by attempting to get her way by throwing around her husband's name – unlike others she could mention. Just who did that Carlotta woman think she was…or better yet, who did she think her uncle was? Christine had never even heard of Joseph De'Rossi, and if he was anything like his niece…she hoped she never did again.

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When she exited the front of the building, she found Gerald parked in the same place, standing outside the car and leaning against it as he texted on his phone. When he spotted Christine, he quickly tucked it in his pocket and held open the car door with a big smile on his face.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Thorn!" he told her, offering her his hand as she moved to climb inside.

"How do you know you shouldn't be offering me your condolences instead?" she asked, eyeing him with a suspicious grin. "My expression wasn't _that_ obvious, was it?"

"Oh, I'm sure I could have figured it out by that skip in your step," he laughed. "But Mr. Thorn came by on his way out and told me the good news, and I must say, he looked very pleased. Very pleased indeed."

Yet before Christine could even respond, her eyes caught sight of the large bouquet of roses resting on the seat beside her, wrapped in fancy decorated cellophane and tied with a wide black ribbon. Attached to it was an envelope with her name written on the front.

"OH!" Christine squealed, picking them up and breathing in deeply. "These weren't here when you dropped me off."

"The boss left them for you," Gerald explained. "Guess he knew you were going to do great." He then shut the door and hurried around to the other side, climbing into the driver's seat. "Where to now, Ma'am?"

"To Leathwood, if you please," she spoke up, excitement ripe in her tone. "I'd like to go tell my father the good news!"

"Very well," Gerald smiled. "I'll have you there in a jiffy!" And off they went.

After the limousine had pulled into traffic, Christine set the flowers down and tore into the envelope, pulling out a handwritten note on a piece of expensive looking stationery. Eagerly, her eyes devoured the letter before her.

 _Christine,_

 _Words cannot express the joy, and pride, I feel over your much-deserved success. So I hope these flowers adequately speak for me. You sang like no other. and I had to struggle to contain my applause, for fear I would attract unwanted attention. This was your moment, and you alone deserved to shine. You truly have a gift, my dear, for you sang like an angel._

 _I wish I could have stayed to speak these words in person, but it was best that I disappeared unseen, for your sake. However, I promise to be home on time and we shall open a bottle of champagne to celebrate._

 _I am very proud of you._

 _Your husband,_

 _Erik._

Christine read the letter twice, each time her smile growing bigger and bigger. _Erik was proud of her!_ Why did that suddenly mean so much to her. He _was_ a musical genius, and he played like a master…yet somehow she knew it was more than that. Getting into Juilliard had long been her father's dream for her. But until that very moment, Christine had not realized exactly how much doing so truly meant to her as well, and now to see it coming true…well it brought tears to her eyes.

Yet suddenly, she knew that her success was no longer tied up with her and her father's hopes alone. No, now there was her husband to consider. Erik Thorn, the man who could make all her fantasies come true…or dash them to pieces in the wake of his obsessive and controlling nature. He was still rather frightening, and she knew better than to underestimate the power he held over her - and probably half the city. Yet, for the first time, when she thought about that fact, Christine was not gripped by a morbid sense of dread. This time, the idea that she was married to Erik Thorn filled her with…well, something she couldn't quite define. But it was something very new!

"Well, Dorothy…welcome to the Emerald City, home of the great and powerful Oz," she whispered to herself, a small grin creeping over her face.

* * *

 **Well...lookie there, Erik is starting to figure things out. Flowers are always a nice touch and the note was perfect as well. Someone is sure proud of his little wife.**

 ** _CONTEST TIME:_ Can you name all FIVE of the familiar characters this chapter introduced (even if names have been changed to protect the not so innocent, ha ha) Name all FIVE and you will win a free snippet card!**

 **Christine is now very curious as to what Gerald's last name is, and that little tease won't tell her either. ha ha.**

 **And I think I saw a bit more of Erik and Christine's bonding time there...so she relies on him for support and encouragement now, does she? That's a good start!**

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 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest:** Thanks for liking my story. And hmmmm, did I have any inspiration for this story. I think I did! I was reading a story by Chapucera called "The world's shortest courtship" and I thought...hmmm, a modern day Erik would be really fun to write. I loved the way her Erik was so...so...well, Erik. ha ha. And I think I would have to say THAT was my inspiration. Thanks for asking. Point of no return, would have to be my favorite, then of course the main Phantom of the Opera where he lured her down below. And if your neighbors are looking at you strangely when you quote Phantom lines, then they are the uneducated masses, ha ha. Everyone should know those words by heart! Thanks.


	16. Chapter 16

**Warning: I posted a bonus chapter on Sunday - make sure you read it before you check this one out.**

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 **Congratulations to those who caught all the familiar faces, and won a free snippet card! The answers to the contest questions were = Meg, Carlotta, Stanley and Reiner (aka Andre and Firmin) and Joseph De'Rossi (aka Joseph Buquet).**

 **And it would appear that they all recognized Christine's talent quite easily...well, not Carlotta, she left in a huff before Christine could sing. But don't worry...or maybe DO worry...that's not the last we'll see of her. ha ha. And apparently Erik is familiar with her shady uncle too...hmmmmmm.**

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 **Now, let's see how they celebrate Christine's vocal victory.**

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 **Chapter 16**

 **~X~**

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When Christine arrived at Leathwood, she grabbed her bouquet of flowers and quickly headed to her father's room, finding him there with Susan, as usual. The kindly redhead was sitting in a comfortable chair next to the window reading out loud from a thick book while Charles sat next to her in his wheelchair, hooked up to a machine designed to monitor his vital signs. There was also a bag attached to the contraption which seemed to be feeding something into his veins through a drip system. Christine could only assume this was the magic serum meant to halt the debilitating disease that was robbing her father of his motor functions. As she stared at the seemingly innocent clear liquid, she felt her hope soar at the thought of all the good it could be doing at that very moment.

"Good afternoon, Christine," Susan spoke up as she saw her enter. "Oh, what lovely flowers!" Then turning to Charles, she added, "From the look on her face, I think your daughter's here to give you some good news."

"I am!" Christine confirmed, occupying the chair next to Susan and staring at her father's unexpressive face. "I came to tell you I got into Juilliard, Papa! I'll be starting classes on Monday!"

At that moment, the quiet little beeps that the monitor had been making began to speed up and increase in volume, causing both women to stare at it – one in panic, and the other with a smile.

"It appears your father's very excited for you, Christine," Susan laughed, pointing at some numbers on the machine. "His heartrate just increased, telling me he understands what you just said and is very happy about it."

"Really?" Christine couldn't help but stare at her father in amazement. The doctor had told her that he was still in there and that he could comprehend what was going on around him, but to see proof of this…well that only made her day all the better! "Oh, Papa, I wish you could've been there! I got a standing ovation from the professors, and they were so complimentary about my performance…it was almost surreal. I'm so glad you're happy for me, I can't tell you how tickled I am myself."

"And you deserve to be, sweetheart," Susan assured her, patting the girl on the hand. "I'm sure you worked very hard for it."

"I…I couldn't have done it without Erik's help," she confessed. "He's been working with me every night for the past several days, trying to get me prepared."

When the monitor beeped again, this time with a different sound, Susan's face creased into a slight frown.

"Well that's not good," she hummed, standing up and pushing a few buttons as she checked the lit-up screen.

"What?" Christine asked, now worried herself. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing too serious, his blood pressure just spiked a bit," she muttered. "But it's coming back down, so I think it was probably just a glitch. You'd think he just became angry or something, but I see no reason for him to be upset by _this_ wonderful news."

Christine found herself blushing slightly and turning away, imagining that perhaps her mention of Erik's name had set her father off. She'd guessed that he wouldn't be too happy with the situation she'd gotten herself into, or the fact that it all came about so suddenly, but this just confirmed it. Well…she could hardly blame him, after all, even she was still attempting to get used to the idea of being married to Erik Thorn. Besides, there was nothing she could do about it, and no sense in informing Susan of her suspicions.

"Do you have a vase I could put these in, I don't want them to wilt before I get home," Christine asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Oh, certainly," Susan nodded, getting up and fishing a glass decanter out of one of the cupboards, filling it with water from the sink before bringing it back to her. "There you go, that should keep them happy. Who gave them to you?"

"Umm…" Christine stalled, not wanting to mention Erik again, for fear that Susan would figure out there was a pattern to her father's spikes in blood pressure. "An admirer."

"Well, it would appear they admire you a great deal," she giggled, more than likely figuring out who they came from with ease. "A great deal, indeed."

.

.

The rest of her visit went well, and Christine did her best to avoid any further mention of her husband, and their rather unconventional marriage. Instead she read off the classes listed on the brochures and mulled over her choices, watching the monitor closely for any indication as to which one her father might think she should take. In the end, only one had seemed to elevate his heart rate any, and that had been the vocals class that she was certain she wanted to take anyway. So after a nice long visit, she plucked out one of her roses, and after putting it in a glass of water on the window sill, Christine kissed his cheek, promising to be back the following day for a longer visit.

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Meanwhile, Erik was walking on clouds! Christine had performed splendidly, and he could not have hoped for a better outcome. Not only had his pretty little wife received admittance, but Carlotta De'Rossi had not! That in itself had been something worth celebrating, according to _his_ way of thinking. Erik sat back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head, staring at the ceiling of his office with an uncharacteristic grin on his face. Yes, today was shaping up to be a good day.

"Well, don't you look like the cat who swallowed the canary?" Antoinette commented, stepping into the office through the half opened door, a stack of papers in her hand.

"I have every reason to appear pleased," Erik snorted, leaning forward as he began to drum his fingers on the desk in an irritated fashion. "And don't you ever knock?"

"I did knock…you were just too lost in your own musings to have heard me," she informed him, never even looking up as she concentrated on the papers. "I hear that congratulations are in order, it would appear that Christine did well at her auditions today."

"How would you know?" Erik began, but then he recalled seeing little Meg approach Christine after her performance, and he quickly deduced where the information had originated.

"Meg texted me a little bit ago, asking for Christine's cell number so that she could set up a lunch date with her on Monday," Antoinette informed him. "She says that she found Christine to be…oh, how did she phrase that…" she muttered, pulling out her phone and tapping the screen a few times before continuing, "…she thought Christine was totes awesome and they are sure to be instant BFFs."

Erik stared at her blankly for a few moments. "What does that even mean?" he asked.

"You think I understand the way the youth talk these days?" she laughed, slipping her phone back in her pocket. "I just assumed it meant she liked her, otherwise she would never have asked for her number." Antoinette gave Erik a pointed stare, trying to gauge his reaction to her next question. "It is all right with you that Meg calls Christine, isn't it?"

"I see no reason to object," Erik replied with a shrug, picking up the first page in the stack of papers Antoinette had just laid on his desk. "Meg might speak in some strange code, but I have always found her to be level-headed, career driven, and not prone to youthful fancies." He looked up at his legal assistant with a wry grin. "I think she gets that from you." When the only response he got was a snort of derision, he continued on. "If Christine finds your daughter to be the pleasant sort, and wishes to form a friendship, I do not object. She is, after all, my wife…not my property, you know."

"Could have fooled me with all the bylaws and addendums you stuck in that contract," Antoinette muttered, cringing just a bit when she realized that was probably not the wisest thing to have said out loud.

Erik opened his mouth to give a retort, yet he shut it just as quickly and turned his gaze back to the papers. He did not wish to argue with her about this, for even though he knew he was in the right, and could simply tell her to shut up and go away, Antoinette's words held a grain of truth. Erik had written the contract in a way that favored him, outlining certain things so that he held all the control. Yet that did _not_ mean he would choose to exercise those rights at all times…or at all. They were put in there as a last resort, an emergency clause, should he fail to win her over as he always planned to. And if the last few days were any sign…Erik thought he was doing rather well.

"Did you need anything else?" he asked as a way of dismissal, not bothering to look up at her.

"Just that your three o'clock appointment will be here soon, do you wish me to show him into the conference room or will you see him here?" she asked, surprised that her boss had not reamed her for her less than flattering accusation. Perhaps Christine had managed to calm her often volatile employer…just a bit.

"I will meet with him in the conference room," Erik muttered, already engrossed in the figures on the paper in front of him. He didn't often allow clients within the walls of his office, feeling as if this was his inner sanctum, his place to get away and be at peace…whenever Antoinette was not barging in unannounced, that is. "Oh, and would you call down and have someone run out and get me a bottle of champagne, the best they have, no expense spared."

"Celebrating tonight, are we?" she guessed, giving Erik a brief raise of her eyebrow.

"I can think of no better reason for doing so," he informed her, a slight smile playing at his stern lips. "Now get out of here and see to your duties before I have you fired," he grumbled, not comfortable with the somewhat friendly conversation they were having. She was his employee, and he would prefer to keep their relationship that way…the last thing he needed was another pesky person acting as his conscience!

"Yes, sir," she laughed, quelling her desire to salute as she turned and left the room.

 _Irritating woman,_ Erik grumbled to himself as he became lost in his work once more.

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Christine had had a marvelous day, one that she would have put a gold star beside if she had ever kept a journal, like some girls did. She had performed well, no mistakes, and been accepted into the school of her dreams. With the help of the monitor that her father had been hooked up to, she had seen visible signs that he was indeed aware of his surroundings, and even if he could still not respond back to her in words, it made her heart almost burst with happiness. Christine was still riding high on her euphoria when she heard the door open and close, announcing that Erik was home at last. She had been sorely disappointed that he could not have stayed at the school long enough to speak with her in person, but she fully understood his reasons for sneaking in and out unseen. Yet in her mind, this had been as much _his_ triumph as hers, for she knew without a doubt that had he not coached her so diligently, as well as arranged the audition in the first place, she would not have had a snowball's chance in hell of getting in.

"Christine?" his warm baritone voice called to her, causing her to set down the brochures she had been reading, and spring from the chair, rushing towards the sound.

Erik had apparently not been satisfied to wait at the door, and had begun a search of his own, rounding the corner just as she came hurrying forward. The two of them collided, not hard, but enough that it stunned them both. Erik's hands immediately reached out to steady her, much in the same way Amir had done the day she had plowed into him. _I really need to stop doing things like this,_ she thought to herself with a giddy laugh.

"Are you all right?" Erik asked, though he did not immediately release his hold on her – if anything he actually pulled her closer.

"I…yes, I was just…excited," she stumbled over her words. Being so close to him, and having those piercing amber eyes staring down at her was causing that odd sensation to rise up within her once again.

"As well you should be," he grinned, his pride and pleasure over her audition coming to the fore. "You performed wonderfully today! I could not have been more pleased."

"I did all right then?" she asked, blushing a bit and bowing her head in modesty.

"All right?" he repeated in a mocking tone. "Those fools at Juilliard have never heard such a voice! You will be the talk of the school, and every faculty member will be begging you to attend their classes! You far exceeded my expectations, Christine, and I must admit that I have quite grandiose plans in mind for your future."

"Yes…well," she was finding it hard to breathe when faced with Erik's visions for her. "I thought we agreed to take things one day at a time."

"Correct," he nodded, recalling that she became overwhelmed quite easily. He would have to force himself to dole out his ideas at a more metered rate. "Forgive me, I do tend to jump ahead at times." Yet, to him, these ideas about her career were already set in stone, just like the notion that she would remain with him for the rest of his life. For in his mind…there was simply no other alternative. "Still, your success today is a reason to rejoice, thus I brought home a bottle of Armand de Brignac Rose Champagne to toast your achievements this evening. I called ahead and told Mrs. Murphy to outdo herself with whatever she is preparing for dinner."

"Oh, Erik, there was no need for that," she protested, not liking the idea of anyone going to such lengths just for her. "The flowers were more than enough, truly. You're going to give me a swelled head."

"Nonsense! You deserve all this and more," he insisted, releasing his hold with one hand as he tipped her slightly flushed face up towards his. "You triumphed today, and as your proud husband…I insist we celebrate!"

As she stared up at the man before her, Christine found she could not argue with him…and even more shocking…she found no reason she would want to.

.

.

Dinner had been divine! The savory taste of the boeuf bourguignon caused Christine to close her eyes on multiple occasions as she relished the flavor and texture of the perfectly prepared meal. Had she known that her reaction to the food, coupled with her little hums of pleasure, was affecting Erik in a more physical manner, she would have blushed with shame. But Christine was far too lost in her enjoyment of the meal, leaving her frustrated husband to stew in silence. By the time dessert arrived, the poor man felt as if he were going to explode. It was then that he called for the bottle of champagne, filling her crystal flute with the bubbly drink the color of a dusty rose.

"I've only had champagne a few times before this," she confessed, raising the glass to her lips as she let the bubbles tickle her nose. "And I can assure you, it never came in a bottle that looked as fancy as that…was it terribly expensive?"

"Not very much," he lied, quickly calculating exactly what a single sip would cost. Yet his Christine was worth it…and much, much more. "You should measure any luxury in life by how it makes you feel, not on what it cost. For you could find immense pleasure in a simple bit of dime-store chocolate, or in the most expensive tin of caviar…yet you would be no less pleased by the experience. We should take our joys where we can find them, and not base them on a price tag alone."

"That's a beautiful thought, Erik," she mused, sipping the sweet liquid as it began to warm her from the toes up. "What are some things that make _you_ happy, Erik?"

Her question startled him, for he had not expected her to ask such a thing. If he thought about it, no one had ever asked him that question before…possibly since no one had ever dared to get close enough to him to be curious.

"I…I find delight in music," he began, taking the easy way out. Yet as he spoke, his eyes took on an almost faraway look. "It makes the world seem right, it smooths out the bumps, the rips and tears, you might say. It has always been my means of escape."

Christine's jaw fell open as she stared at him, for he had taken the words right out of her mouth.

"That's exactly how I feel about music as well," she whispered, watching him as he turned his distracted eyes back to her. "Even if the whole world feels like it's crashing down around me, a simple tune, or a long forgotten melody, can always ease my pain."

Erik had long known that Christine was destined to be his soulmate, yet he never believed this as strongly as he did at this moment. It was like they were sharing one thought, one feeling…one breath. She was undoubtedly perfect for him in every way.

"And you, Christine?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "Besides music, what brings a smile to your lips?"

Now it was her turn to become lost in thought, trying to dig down into her memories and think of something meaningful to say. Thankfully she did not have to look far, for she quickly realized it was not the big things that mattered, as much as the simple ones.

"A loud thunder storm," she began, leaning back in her chair as she thoughtfully sipped at her glass. "Lady bugs in spring, a good book on a chilly afternoon, bubble baths, and the taste of watermelon when it is ripe and fresh." When she realized the silliness of her answers she threw the question back at him. "Your turn, tell me a few more of your other favorites."

"Fast cars and a good wine…not necessarily at the same time, however," he answered with a laugh, enjoying their little game. "The sound of rain, and the smell of the earth directly after a downpour. A canary's song, and the fact that it takes you at least five minutes, and three turns, in order to find the perfect sleeping position."

"That's not true!" she sputtered, her eyes growing wide.

"Really?" Erik countered, raising his eyebrow skeptically, though he was sure she could not see it. "Perhaps you have not noticed this adorable little quirk…but I have."

Christine's face flushed crimson as she realized that he was probably right, for while she had never counted the times she might toss and turn in order to get comfortable, she knew she often fussed a bit. The fact that Erik had noticed, and even counted the number of times she turned, made her feel very self-conscious…as well as a bit flattered.

"Well, _you_ drum your fingers on your leg, or on a table, when you are deep in thought," she pointed out, not wanting him to think that she was the only one who had quirks.

"Do I now?" he asked, not at all offended by her little observation. "You bite your lip and wring your hands when you are nervous," he countered.

"You hold your fork in your right hand when you eat meat or salad, but use your _left_ when you pick up a spoon to eat soup," Christine informed him with a wide grin.

That one was news to Erik…he would have to pay more attention the next time he ate dinner.

"You have yet to tell me goodbye when I leave for work," he finished, having no idea he was going to say such a thing until the words had already left his mouth. When the playful expression faded from Christine's face, replaced with one of shock, he wished he could somehow take them back.

"I…I haven't?" she questioned, her eyes darting to and fro as if trying to recall the times he had left the house.

"It does not matter," he lied quickly, wishing he had kept that to himself. "It means nothing, it was simply an observation…nothing more."

"No…I haven't, have I?" she stated, ignoring his protests as she suddenly realized her oversight. "I'm very sorry, that was extremely rude of me."

"Please do not feel badly," Erik almost begged, wishing for their easy moment to return. "Forget I said anything."

"No! This is good," she insisted, a shy smile coming to her lips as she reached across the table and unexpectedly placed her hand over his. "It's good that we share things like this. It obviously bothered you enough to have it on your mind, thus it is important that it be spoken out loud. Now I know, and I promise to correct that in the future."

"I have not upset you?" he asked, tipping his head as he tried to ascertain her true feelings.

"Not at all, in fact," she mused, "I'm glad you said something. Communication is very important in a…a relationship." Christine could not help but stumble over that word, still rather unsure how to truly define _their_ situation. "It makes me understand you more, and that can only work in our favor. Yes?"

"If that is how you view it…then I agree," he told her with a relieved grin. "I would hope that if you have any such thoughts in your mind about me, that you would feel free to voice them, Christine," he stated. "For I too would like to know you better as well."

"Agreed," she smiled, downing the last of her glass of champagne. She was beginning to feel a bit flushed, warm even, and wondered if it had anything to do with the drink…or perhaps their rather personal conversation. "So what is on the agenda for the rest of the evening? Singing? A movie?"

"I think after today we can forgo your lessons for tonight," Erik suggested. "You deserve a respite, and I fear that due to my absence from work this morning I was forced to bring home a couple of folders I need to go over. So how about we retire to the entertainment room, and you can find something to occupy your time while I work?"

"Fine with me," Christine nodded, for all the excitement from today was starting to wear her out, and just lying on the couch while she let some Hollywood actors amuse her, sounded positively delightful.

"Then so it shall be," he nodded, rising from his chair as he offered her his arm, leading her out of the room with smiles on both their faces.

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Erik sighed and looked up from the last of his paperwork, twisting his head to the side. This resulted in a series of quiet pops from his stiff neck, followed by a sigh of relief. Looking down at his watch he gasped as he realized it was nearly midnight, the evening having flown by without him noticing. A quick glance assured him that even at this late hour, Christine had not abandoned him to the room alone, her slumbering form on the sofa in front of him clearly visible from his place at the desk.

The news droned on in the background, the volume having been turned down low enough so that it might not disturb him – not that much could when he was engrossed in what he was doing. Still he smiled at the thoughtfulness of his little wife, realizing that she must have done so out of concern for him. It was nice to think that there was now someone who considered him important enough to do such things, as well as stay in the room long past the time she had grown sleepy.

Standing up and shoving the folders back into his briefcase, Erik decided it was time to wake his sleeping beauty, and escort her up to bed. He hated to rouse her though, for she looked so adorable curled up on the sofa like that, reminiscent of a contented feline taking a cat nap. Still, he had work the next day and while Christine had no finite plans, he was certain a trip to visit her father was high on her list of things to do. Walking over to where she slept, he knelt down and brushed his fingers down her cheek in an effort to wake her.

Yet the moment he touched her skin his brows knitted together in concern and his lips pursed in worry. Quickly placing the palm of his hand against her face he instantly confirmed his suspicions…she was burning up! Erik silently cursed himself for not having noticed sooner, his attention being given to his work and not where it should have been… _on her!_ How long had she been curled up here, suffering while he went about as if nothing was wrong? Why had she not alerted him to her distressing condition?

"Christine," he spoke, his words laced with concern and fear. "Christine, wake up."

A low moan emanated from her as her somewhat glassed over eyes slowly opened, focusing on him as a frown crossed her lips.

"Erik…" she mumbled, turning her head in an attempt to avoid the bright lights above her. "I…I don't feel well."

"I can see that, my dear," he told her, brushing the hair from her forehead as he felt the heat wafting off of her. "You need to get into bed immediately."

"I don't want to move," she protested, curling up into herself a bit more, as if her whole body ached.

"You do not have to," he assured her, reaching out as he scooped her up and carried her out of the room. If he was not so worried over her current condition he would have relished the fact that she cuddled into him as they went, laying her head on his shoulder and fisting her hand into his shirt as she began to shiver.

"C-c-cold," she whispered, not opening her eyes once.

"I don't see how, you are as warm as an oven," he told her as he carried her up the stairs and into their bedroom. He sat her on the bed and knelt down in front of her, cupping her face in his hands as he examined her closely. He could see no outward signs of ailment, other than the obvious temperature and way she was now shivering, so he quickly ruled out an injury of some kind. Yet his overactive mind ran the gambit from poisons to bubonic plague, imagining all kinds of horrible diseases she might have contracted that would take her from him. His sensible side chided him, insisting that she merely had a cold or mild flu…but still, he couldn't help but panic. "You need to get into your sleeping clothes, can you do this alone or do you need help?"

"Can do it…by myself," she protested, sounding almost like a petulant child as she tried to stand up. Erik stood with her and guided her to the washroom, a bit unwilling to release her hand once they arrived at the door. Yet she managed to stumble in and shut it behind her, causing Erik great concern as he was forced to pace back and forth as he waited for her to reemerge. After what felt like ages he saw the handle turn and out she came, looking no better but at least a bit more comfortable in her flannel pajama bottoms and cozy t-shirt. His arm quickly wrapped around her waist as he guided her to the bed, pulling back the covers and easing her inside. Once she was situated, he snuggled her in tight, the blankets tucked up around her chin as he watched her shiver and shake, her chattering teeth doing nothing at all for his nerves and sense of well-being.

Christine was sick! Erik had very little experience with this situation, having very rarely been in need of a physician's care himself, so he did not know if this was something he needed to be deeply concerned with or not. He did not want to come across as some overreacting, ignorant husband, yet neither did he want to underestimate the situation and fail to care for his precious wife. Was Christine prone to such ailments? Did she have a delicate constitution that made her susceptible to these things, and he had failed to take it into consideration? What if she got worse… _what if she died?_ No, he could not even think of such horrible things! He was treading on unknown territory here and he did not enjoy the feeling of helplessness that washed over him. In the end, Erik decided it was best to err on the side of caution, so pulling out his phone, he quickly dialed the first person he could think of.

"Amir!" he all but shouted, as his friend's sleepy voice answered his call. "I need you over here…NOW!"

* * *

 **Oh dear...Erik is in a tizzy now! Where do you think Christine picked up this little virus?**

 **So, looks like her dad is showing signs of 'life' and making her very happy. Even if he doesn't seem to be very happy when she mentions Erik. ha ha.**

 **And did you like their little 'get to know you' questions?**

 **Now, what will Erik do with a sick wife? Will he freak out? Ummm, hello...this is Erik we are talking about. ha ha.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **STAR:** Well, I would HAVE to say Christine for both...but I would be smarter than her and pick the RIGHT GUY. ha ha. I think that is why we write stories, to live out our fantasies a bit through our characters. Thanks for the review and the interesting questions. Hope to see you again.

 **Gummy:** I don't think anyone else would be happy if I only posted a one word chapter, so I will just say HI to you here, OK? ha ha. And good to know you've been reading all this time. Writing skills come with practice, and believe me, if you went back and read my first story I published, The Angel of Persia, you would see all my mistakes. I have learned a lot since then (I hope) and have had lots of helpful Beta readers teaching me a thing or two. IF Raoul appears? Oh you know he'll be showing up eventually. ha ha. He will certainly behave differently since Christine is married, or I will have his head! But don't worry, I got it all figured out. And I hope you enjoy his character when he arrives. ha ha. Thanks for the kind review and keep them coming! BE BRAVE!

 **Guest M:** I really wish two things...one, that you got all five right...and two that you had an account so that I could have offered you a snippet card (if you had got them right) I not only can't respond to a guest reviewer except like this, I can't send them PMs either - which is the only way I can give out snippets. So I totally apologize! But thank you so much for sending in your guess! I'll still give you Erik-points, even if I can't give you a snippet. Thanks, FP33


	17. Chapter 17

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.

 **Let's see how Erik deals with Christine's illness.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 17**

 **~X~**

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Christine felt miserable. Her skin was on fire, yet her body was racked with shivers, and she couldn't seem to stop her teeth from chattering. Her head felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton, and every time she swallowed she imagined it was shards of glass going down her throat. She just wanted to sleep, to drift off and hopefully not wake up until she felt better. However, that wasn't going to happen, for even though her ears felt as plugged up as her head, she could still hear voices talking nearby, keeping her away from the blissful oblivion she longed for. If she had the strength to talk at all, she'd have yelled at them to shut up and leave her alone.

.

"She is not going to die, Erik," Amir told his distraught friend, trying to keep his voice low so as not to disturb Christine, who was presently lying under a mountain of covers a few feet away. "She has a cold…or the flu…either way, it's no reason to fly off the handle. These are not the dark ages, a fever is no longer a death sentence. Just get her a couple of Tylenol, and let her sleep it off."

Erik glared at Amir, thinking that calling him might not have been the best idea. He should have contacted Antoinette, or perhaps Gerald, at least _they_ would not have had the nerve to contradict him on this.

"I do not give a damn what era we live in, I will not sit idly by while Christine is obviously suffering!" he spat, also trying to keep his voice down, while at the same time injecting as much venom in it as possible. "Now, you stay here and watch her while I go call for a doctor!" And giving his Persian friend a stern glare, he turned and left the room.

Amir rolled his eyes in exasperation before turning back to look at the woman in the bed. She did look rather uncomfortable, and he felt a twinge of pity for what she was going through. Taking a step closer he placed the back of his hand to her forehead, noting that she was indeed extremely warm. He was no doctor, yet he'd been taught a bit of field medicine in his years, and Amir knew that the best thing for most ailments was liquids.

"Christine?" he said in a low and soothing voice. "Christine, if I got you some water, do you think you might drink it for me?" When she gave a low moan in response and nodded ever so slightly, he took it as a yes, and quickly headed towards the bathroom in search of a drinking glass.

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Christine had heard what Amir had said…or at least she thought it was Amir. With the way her mind was all clouded, and her ears plugged up, it could have been anyone who had spoken and she wouldn't have known. Yet the idea of a drink of water sounded almost heavenly, causing her to do her best to remain alert in order to receive it.

She waited for a moment or two, but when no further words came - as well as no offering of water - Christine pried her eye open and looked around. The room seemed to be spinning, and not in a fun amusement park kind of way either…no, this was quickly making her nauseous. Yet she knew she could not drink from a glass lying down, and she did so very much want some water. Her mouth felt like a desert, and oddly enough, she suddenly felt like she was roasting in one as well. Why was she now so hot?

Glancing down she saw the reason, she must have five blankets on her! It was instantly stifling, and all she could think was to get them off of her, wishing to feel the cool air against her molten skin. Using all the strength she possessed, Christine sat up and pushed them as far away from her as possible, letting her feet dangle over the side of the bed while taking a few deep breaths. Oh, that felt wonderful. However, her feelings of relief quickly faded as the dizziness came back in waves, threatening to show its displeasure by causing her to relinquish the wonderful dinner she had eaten earlier. _Oh, no…she was going to vomit!_

Looking around she could find nothing useful to use for such an occasion, and the last thing she intended to do was embarrass herself by upchucking on the bed or carpet. Christine instantly recalled that when she was younger, lying on the bathroom floor always seemed to make her feel better in situations like this. She was not sure why, but it was like the cool tile on the bathroom floor held magical properties, ones that would settle her stomach and bring her relief. And while she knew for a fact that she would never make it as far as the bathroom, she was willing to bet the bedroom floor would do just as nicely.

So slipping down the mattress, she quickly found herself sitting on the plush rug at the side of the bed, and with one small tip sideways, she was blessedly lying on the floor. There, Christine thought to herself, if nothing else, she had a much shorter distance to fall now, should she happen to lose consciousness. She wove her fingers into the rich fibers and let her cheek rest against the cool carpet beneath her. This was _much_ better than the sweltering bed.

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Erik finished his call with a somewhat satisfied look on his face, and made his way back down the hall towards their room, and Christine. That little voice in the back of his mind continued to tell him that he was overreacting, but he purposefully ignored it. His wife was sick, and as her husband it was _his_ duty to see that any and all assistance was given her…and with his wealth and power, he could give her quite a bit.

Yet, when Erik pushed open the bedroom door and stepped inside, his mind made two quick observations. One, Amir was nowhere to be seen. And two, Christine was lying on the floor!

"Christine!" he all but shouted, rushing forward and falling to his knees at her side. "Christine, my darling, can you hear me?"

"Shhhhh," she whimpered, taking one of her hands and covering the ear that was not already buried in the carpet. "I'm…trying to…sleep."

"On the floor?" he argued, shocked at her choice of locations for this activity. Just then Amir emerged from the bathroom, a glass of water in his hand and a look of horror on his face.

"What happened? How did she get down there?" he asked, coming to stand beside Erik.

"How would I know?" Erik spoke through gritted teeth. " _You_ were the one supposed to be watching her!"

"I went to get her a glass of water," he spoke in defense, holding up the item in his hand as proof.

"Water?" Christine mumbled, opening her eyes as she reached out, searching desperately for the liquid.

"Here, let's get you up," Erik told her as he reached down to scoop her into his arms.

"Nooooo…I love the floor," she protested, as she was lifted and set back on the bed.

"And I'm sure the floor feels the same way about you," Amir chuckled, a slight smile coming to his lips. "But you can't drink water while lying down there." He then handed over the glass to Erik who assisted her in getting it to her lips to drink.

After a few big gulps, she pushed the rest away, her hand going to cover her throat.

"Hurts to swallow," she croaked, her face scrunched in pain.

"I know, my dear," Erik nodded, taking her by the shoulders and easing her back down to lie on the bed. "The doctor will be here shortly, and he will give you something for the pain."

"Doctor? What doctor?" Amir asked, watching as Erik gently replaced the covers over the somewhat delirious girl, snuggling her down as she closed her eyes.

"Dr. Mills from Leathwood," Erik explained in a snippy tone.

"Since when does _he_ make house calls?" the Persian demanded, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Since I promised to fund a new wing at his blasted research facility if he got here in the next thirty minutes, that's when!" Erik snapped, taking hold of Amir's arm and pulling him away from the bed.

 _"You did what?"_ his friend barked, then lowered his voice as he continued. "You actually bribed Dr. Mills to come out here in the middle of the night to treat your wife's cold?"

"Better that, than to sit here and go mad waiting and wondering if she will be all right," Erik argued.

"I always suspected…but this just confirms it," Amir grumbled, placing his hands on his hips and staring at his friend with a deep frown.

"Confirms what?" the worried husband demanded.

"You're insane, Erik Thorn," Amir answered. "Certifiably insane!"

.

.

Insane or not, in less than twenty minutes, Dr. Mills was admitted into the house and was taken up to Christine. After a quick examination, and administering some medication, the physician ushered the other two men out into the hallway so they could speak in private.

"Your wife is going to be just fine," the physician assured Erik, causing the masked man to release a sigh of relief. "It's only the common cold, perhaps a bit stronger than some, but nothing more than that. She will need plenty of bed rest, as much fluids as you can get her to take, and keep giving her the medicine I left on the nightstand. It's basically the same stuff you get at any pharmacy, but with a bit of a kick, you might say. Christine should be feeling much better in just a few days."

"That is good to hear, Doctor," Erik nodded, visibly calmed by his assurance.

"I'd say 'call me anytime,' but I'd much prefer that you do so during normal business hours," the kindly man said, a smile spreading across his face. "However, if you're willing to offer extra funds for the institute, I'm more than happy to be at your beck and call."

"I will keep that in mind," Erik replied, unsure if the doctor was joking or not.

"I'd suggest that you sleep in another room for the next few nights, just in case Christine is contagious," Mills informed him with a look of concern.

"I do not get sick, Doctor," Erik informed him in no uncertain terms. "And I will not be induced to leave my wife's side while she is in obvious need of my care."

"Suit yourself," the doctor shrugged, realizing there was no convincing the man otherwise. "Please call me if Christine requires any further assistance."

"Thank you again for coming on such short notice, Dr. Mills," Amir told him, gesturing towards the stairs. "I'll show you out, for I'm sure you are more than eager to return to your own home and bed." With a final nod, the two men headed back down.

.

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Once alone, Erik did not wait long before he quietly slipped back inside the room and gently sat down beside his now sleeping wife. He reached out and touched the back of his hand to her cheek, giving a sigh of relief when he felt that she seemed much cooler. The medication was working quickly, and from the way she now seemed to be resting comfortably, he assumed the extra kick the doctor had mentioned had done the trick.

"Do not fear, Christine, you will soon be well, I promise," Erik whispered, tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, before pulling his hand away. He then scooted to the end of the bed, resting his back against one of the posts and crossed his arms over his chest. He knew he could not protect her from germs, or the tiny microbes that were silently attacking from within, but Erik would be damned if he was going to leave Christine's side before she showed considerable signs of improvement!

.

.

Christine slowly opened her eyes, yet when the harsh light practically blinded her, she quickly shut them again with a low moan of displeasure. Her body ached, her head was pounding, and nothing at all felt right. What was wrong with her?

"Here, my dear," came a voice that seemed to be hovering above her. "Can you sit up and take a sip of this for me?"

Prying open one eye she saw Erik standing there, blessedly blocking out the offending sunlight as he held an inviting glass of orange juice out to her. Sitting up sounded like far too much work, but the sight of the juice was just too tempting to pass up. Her throat felt raw but her mouth was so dry she would have accepted anything at that moment. Using all her strength she eased herself up on one elbow and took the glass with her other hand, downing the entire thing in just a few swallows. Once she had returned it to him, Christine fell back against the pillow and threw her arm over her eyes, wishing that the world would stop spinning for just a few moments.

"Your fever has not yet broken, and the doctor says you will still have to remain in bed and take your medicine for the next few days," Erik informed her, pouring a pretty pink liquid into a small measuring cup and next holding it out to her. When she failed to notice, due to her eyes being shut and her arm across her face, he cleared his throat, garnishing her attention. "You must drink this if you wish to feel better."

"With how I feel, I'll have to die first in order to feel better," she moaned, far too weak to sit up a second time.

"Do not even joke of such things!" Erik insisted, his tone perhaps a bit more stern than he had intended. He then reached out with his free hand and slipped it under her shoulders, assisting her to rise slightly as he brought the elixir to her lips, tipping up the cup as she drank it down.

Thankfully the medicine taste wasn't that strong, and Christine didn't feel the need to cringe or gag. Still, another glass of orange juice sounded heavenly and she mentioned her desires to Erik for a second helping. Within moments she could hear the tinkling of ice cubes as liquid was being poured into the glass, and soon Erik was once again helping her to rise so she could greedily gulp down the juice. The small amount of effort she had expended seemed to have worn her out, and only moments after her head hit the pillow, Christine was fast asleep.

.

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The sun was just beginning to start its descent in the sky when she woke again, this time feeling far less feverish and groggy, yet still how Christine imagined she might after being hit by a garbage truck…multiple times. Blinking, she looked around the room, her eyes coming to rest on the figure of her husband sitting in a chair next to the bed, his attention focused on the laptop in front of him. She could hear the soft tapping of the keys as he worked, a frown gracing his lips, indicating that whatever he was doing was not pleasing. Yet some movement from her instantly caught Erik's eye, and he quickly set the device aside as he leaned over and placed his hand on her forehead, a slight smile spreading across his face.

"You are much cooler now," Erik informed her, reaching over to pick up a digital thermometer and holding it in front of her lips. "Open wide," he instructed.

Christine did as she was told, and then kept her mouth shut until she heard the quiet beeping noise that indicated it was done. Taking the probe out of her mouth, Erik examined it with a nod of satisfaction.

"Ninety-eight point nine," he informed her. "It would appear you are indeed on the mend. How are you feeling? Any better?"

"I…I think so," she muttered, desperately trying to recall why she was lying in bed feeling as badly as she did. "What happened? The last thing I remember was sitting on the couch watching television."

"It is my theory that you contracted a virus from that idiot professor at Juilliard yesterday, and fell ill," Erik huffed, getting an agitated look in his eyes. "Allergies my ass! The man was obviously a walking plague ready to strike, and with the way he kept grabbing your hand, he surely passed his germs on to you! I should have the man fired for such stupidity!"

"Erik…you don't know that for sure," she protested, not wishing to deal with his little tirade when her head hurt so much. "I could've picked it up anywhere."

"Highly unlikely," he insisted. "I questioned both Amir and Gerald, and they claim that you have not been in contact with anyone else who was exhibiting signs of illness."

"Still…I don't think it would do any good to point fingers, not when there's nothing to be done about it now. Besides, it's just a cold," she told him, struggling to sit up. Erik quickly stood and assisted her in this endeavor, placing another pillow behind her in hopes of making the process more comfortable.

"Well, I do not intend on taking any chances, you will be remaining in bed under constant supervision for the next several days, or until your symptoms have subsided, just as the doctor ordered," Erik huffed, still feeling more than a bit vindictive towards Professor Reiner.

"Several days?" Christine squeaked, her voice strained due to her sore throat and panic. "But…I must visit my father! And I need to turn in my class schedule for Juilliard…not to mention I'll need to practice…"

"Calm yourself, Christine," Erik interjected, halting her frantic tirade. "There will be plenty of time for all those things, yet I will not have you doing any singing until your throat has completely healed. It would be a travesty should you attempt to work such muscles too soon, and damage your voice for good. I will also see that the school receives your selections, and you are signed up for the classes you desire."

"And my father?" she pressed. "I told him I'd be by to see him today. What will he think when I don't come?"

"He will understand that you were unable to do so due to your ailment," Erik insisted. "Now, I think it's just about time for you to take another dose of the medicine Dr. Mills left, and have something to eat."

"Dr. Mills?" Christine asked in shock. "What was _he_ doing here?"

"I called him, and requested that he come out to offer medical assistance," he informed her, acting as if it were nothing to be concerned over.

"Dr. Mills is a specialist, not some family doctor at a clinic!" she argued. "Why would he bother with someone like me…over a mere cold?"

"Because _I_ asked him to," Erik told her firmly, effectively ending that line of questioning. "Now, while your fever might be gone, you still appear very tired and weak. I held off waking you before, since you were sleeping so well all morning, but now I must insist that you partake of some nourishment. You cannot regain your strength on an empty stomach. I called Mrs. Murphy in early today, and she has made you a nice pot of chicken soup. Shall I have some brought up for you?"

Until the mention of food, Christine had not realized just how hungry she was, and her eyes brightened with excitement at the mention of such.

"Yes, please," she nodded, her eagerness reflecting in her voice.

Erik pulled out his phone and quickly dialed, apparently having told the cook that he would call down when Christine awoke. After a few words of instruction, he hung up, looking rather pleased with himself.

"Why aren't you at work?" Christine asked suddenly, noting that the day was half over and it appeared that he hadn't left. "Did you stay home all day?"

"Where else would I be when my wife is ill?" Erik replied, sounding almost offended by her question. "You obviously needed someone to take care of you, and as your husband, the duty falls upon me." He seemed almost proud of that fact, as if having been more than happy to step into the role of caregiver.

"Oh…well, thank you, Erik," Christine whispered, looking down at her hands as she blushed slightly. "I'm very grateful for all you have done…really."

"It was my pleasure, my dear," he nodded, a smile crossing his lips. "I am just so sorry you are not feeling well. Is there anything you require while we await your meal?"

"Well…I…I kind of need to visit the little girl's room," she informed him sheepishly, her request being rather difficult to articulate without feeling embarrassed.

"Of course," was Erik's only reply, approaching the bed and pulling back the covers in order to assist her in rising.

Christine was shocked at how much like a wet dishrag she felt, her limbs having no strength in them to speak of. How could one little cold have knocked her down so hard? Erik was quick to steady her, one hand around her waist while the other supported her arm just below the elbow. When he had successfully escorted her into the bathroom, he made sure she was steady enough to be left on her own, and then he respectfully exited. By the time she reemerged, Mrs. Murphy had arrived with her soup, and when she was safely ensconced in her bed once more, Christine made a sizable dent in the food before her eyes began to droop. Erik was quick to whisk away the lunch tray, and encouraged her to take another dose of the medicine, as well as some orange juice, before she succumbed to sleep yet again.

Erik stared down at his slumbering angel, feeling a swell in his chest at the idea that he was taking such good care of her. It disturbed him to think how she might have coped with such an ailment had he not found and married her. Images of her feverish and alone, caused him great pain, imagining her in need and no one there to tend to her. Yes, it was far better that she had agreed to be his wife, and Erik was certain that after this, Christine was bound to realize it as well.

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Christine slept the rest of the day away, with Erik never once leaving the room. Mrs. Murphy brought up their dinner later on, keeping hers more on the bland but nourishing side, while serving Erik a regular meal. She ate all she could, before falling asleep once again.

When it grew late, Erik changed into his night clothes and carefully climbed in bed, doing his best not to jostle or waken his slumbering bride. While he was still distressed over her ailment, Erik had found it very pleasant to have spent the day at her side, tending to her every need, and watching over her like any good husband would. Each moment spent with Christine was a joy, and each day he seemed to be learning more and more about her…and how a true husband and wife might behave.

"Good night, my darling angel," he whispered, daring to reach out and stroke her hair gently. "Sleep well."

* * *

 **Awwww, now if Erik doesn't get points for that, I'll be shocked. ha ha.**

 **So, called in Dr. Mills did he? Promised to fund a new wing for him, did he? Amir thinks he's insane, does he? ha ha.**

 **Bathroom tile floors do seem to have SOME sort of medical properties, right?**

 **Now, I'm off to find Erik a "Awesome husband" button...I think he deserves it.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest C:** So glad you are enjoying it...and ALL my other works as well? Wow, thanks! More fun, that's whats coming up next! Thanks for reading.

 **Guest:** Yes, Christine HAS been under a bit of stress lately...but Erik has his own ideas about why she is ill. ha ha. Oh, with Dr. Erik on the job, I can't see how she wouldn't be feeling well soon. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Kristin:** Thanks! I was worried about taking Erik and Christine into the future, but most of it has been quite easy, really. And best of all, I don't have to worry about accidentally writing slang into the dialog or cringe when someone says Okay. ha ha. More chapters coming up! Thanks again.

 **Guest:** It takes me an average of two days to write a chapter...unless I get really busy. Then I have at least two to three people read it over to check me for mistakes, and then I add it to my pile of chapters in reserve. And sleep...what is that? No, don't worry, I get plenty of sleep, I just don't have time to do anything else. ha ha. Thanks for reading and reviewing...Mom. ha ha

 **Guest S:** I have fallen behind in my review answering, but I've been getting all of yours and I love them. It is hard to guess where you are sometimes, you read so quickly, and I wanted to make sure to post an answer to you far enough ahead so you don't miss it. Here are my answers to a few of your questions: I do publish some of my stories on Amazon, so I get a little bit of royalties, but I also leave them all here for people to read for free as well. No, often sleep is NOT necessary, if there is reading or writing to do. ha ha. You are making my head swell with all your kind words! Glad you enjoyed the wedding, and yes, it will be interesting when Charles can talk again, right? Erik might eventually say where his money came from eventually. Don't drop out of school to read Fan Fiction full time...Erik would be very put out with you if you did, he values a good education. ha ha. Wow, you love my story more than Erik loves Christine? Is that even possible? Maria is a good friend, so is Raffie - you will see them again. Yep, you guessed it...Amir WAS hired by Erik to tail her. She did tell Erik off good, didn't she? I was soooo tempted to writing a bubble wrap bed scene. Erik did apologize...and didn't choke on the words either! Erik and Christine can bond over music and their love of violins (and the people who play them) Yes, what WILL Erik say about her new/old PJs? Amir is a scamp, right? Gotta love him. Don't forgo sleep forever. Stop and rest your eyes. But thanks for ALL the wonderful reviews!


	18. Chapter 18

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 **It's FRIDAY!**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 18**

 **~X~**

* * *

The next morning Christine was feeling much better, her fever had not returned and she had regained a lot of her energy as well as her appetite. Erik had intended on staying home again, set on catering to her, as well as entertaining her, now that she was more alert. Yet, after receiving the sixth call from the office, even before they had both finished their breakfast, Christine insisted that he go into work.

"The place is obviously falling apart without you," she laughed, watching as he glared at his phone when it began to buzz for the seventh time.

"You would think they had enough brains to figure things out on their own!" he growled, shoving the offending object back into his pocket, before finishing up his breakfast. Mrs. Murphy had unexpectedly arrived early that morning, insisting that she provide the appropriately nutritious meals that would help Christine recover faster. When Erik had argued that he was perfectly capable of doing that, she claimed that he had more important things to do than tend to the kitchen while his wife was ailing. And since he was enjoying his time sequestered upstairs with Christine, he ceased his objections. Yet now, it would appear that being absent one day was bringing Phantom Industries to its knees, much to his displeasure.

"Go, Erik," Christine urged, taking a bite of her lightly buttered toast. "I'll be just fine while you are gone, and since Mrs. Murphy is here, as well as Janet, I think I'll survive until you return."

"Are you sure?" Erik pressed, not liking the idea at all.

"Yes…and I was wondering if you would do me a favor while you're out?" she asked, her face getting an almost pleading look. Christine felt bad for asking, but it had been bothering her since yesterday, and she just couldn't get it off her mind.

"Of course, whatever you wish," he assured her, more than eager to do anything to satisfy his sick little wife.

"Would you please stop by Leathwood and check on my father?" she all but begged. "I'm really worried that my being there the other day might have been detrimental to his health, seeing as how I got sick later that night. I really want to know that he's all right."

"You could simply call and speak to someone in charge at Leathwood," Erik suggested. "You do realize they _have_ invented this wonderful device called a phone."

"I know," Christine wined, shutting her eyes in embarrassment. "But I want to know _for sure_ that he's all right. Please, can't you just swing by? And perhaps you could explain to him why I haven't come to see him, or at least tell Susan so she can fill him in? I don't want him to worry about me."

Erik was silent for a moment, weighing the pros and cons about such an assignment. While he desperately wanted to make Christine happy, and do as she bid, a part of him was wary about spending any amount of time with her father, incapacitated or not. Still, the pleading sound in her voice caused his heart to constrict, making it impossible to turn his wife down.

"If it means that much to you, I will drop in on my way home and get a personal update on his progress for you," he promised, being awarded a bright smile in return. "Yet I will not be gone longer than absolutely necessary. Everyone at the office must learn to function without me for more than one day, for what will become of the company when I whisk you away for our belated honeymoon? Have you yet decided where you might like to vacation?"

"I…I haven't given it much thought," she admitted, still trying to acclimate herself to her current surroundings, much less the idea of traveling to far off places.

"Then you will have much to occupy your mind while I am gone," Erik insisted, standing up and taking away the now empty tray. "I will ask Mrs. Murphy to check in on you every hour, unless you choose to take a nap. I have placed your phone on the nightstand if you need to contact her, or me. I insist that you not hesitate to ring me if you desire anything, even if it is simply your wish I pick up something sweet that might tempt your appetite."

"I hardly think your valuable time should be wasted on my frivolous requests," she laughed, though sobered quickly at his next words.

"Nothing is more important to me than catering to your needs, Christine," he told her, deadly serious. "And as far as I am concerned…nothing you require could ever be categorized as frivolous." When he saw that his statement had shocked her, he turned to make a hasty exit, telling her he would be back as soon as possible before leaving the bedroom. Yet just before he pulled the door closed she called out to him.

"Erik!" her voice sounded almost desperate.

"Yes, my dear?" he responded, taking a step back in the room in concern.

"I…I wanted to tell you…goodbye," she stammered, looking a bit flustered over her words. "And to wish you a nice day at work."

Erik was stunned. He knew they had talked about this, and he had longed for such a thing to grace her lips, yet to actually hear those wifely salutations from Christine warmed his heart in ways he had not expected. At last he was able to collect his scattered thoughts and make an intelligent reply.

"Thank you, Christine," he said quietly, ignoring the slight hitch in his voice. "I will. You have a good day as well." And after receiving a nod and a smile from her, he left the room once more, his heart and steps a bit lighter.

.

.

Christine had only seconds to decide if she should have called him back or not, and while at first she had almost chickened out, she was now glad she hadn't. It was such a small thing, bidding one farewell as they left for the day, and yet until now, she had been reluctant to do so. _Why?_ Was it because she had feared he would've wanted more…such as a goodbye kiss? Or because it felt like an intimate thing, since telling Erik to have a nice day was something a loving wife would say to her devoted husband. And yet, they were neither of those things…or were they?

Hadn't Erik stayed home the previous day and tended to her while she was sick? Every time she had opened her eyes, or requested even the tiniest of things, he had been right there, willing and eager to wait on her hand and foot. Was _that_ not the description of a devoted husband? And yet, Christine was _not_ a loving wife. She had been bribed and coerced into signing that contract, a wife in name only, even if she would one day be required to perform other intimate activities. But perhaps, by his kind actions and her small step in telling him goodbye…things might be changing. She could only hope they were for the better.

Christine had just snuggled back down into the bed to contemplate more on this new development, when she heard her phone buzz beside the bed. Wondering who in the world would be texting her, she reached over and grabbed it, checking the screen quickly. She did not recognize the number, but as soon as she read the accompanying text, she had a pretty good idea who the sender was.

 _*OMG girl, I hear u r down with a mondo cold! That's low! #NOFUN! Hope u r better by Monday, I can't wait 2 have a F2F with u so u can fill me in on all the deets. My mom says hi. TTFN!*_

Christine stared at the message and read it over three times before she was able to make heads or tails out of what Meg had written. OMG, she got rather quickly, but it took longer to figure out that F2F meant _face to face_ , and TTFN was short for _ta ta for now_. The whole thing had Christine laughing, and she quickly replied back, a goofy grin on her face.

 _*Thanks Meg, I'm feeling better today and truly hope I'll not miss my first day of school come Monday. I'm looking forward to having lunch with you. Tell your mother hello back. See you soon, Christine*_

As she hit the send button, she hoped that Meg would understand her, given that she had spelled everything out. Christine was really anxious to get to know Meg Giry better, for then perhaps she would learn more about her mysterious mother, and in turn Erik. She was sure that the overly gregarious dancer was just full of interesting and helpful information, and if their first meeting was any indication, Meg was not shy about sharing.

Setting her phone back on the nightstand, Christine once more snuggled under the covers and closed her eyes. A nap sounded divine.

.

.

Erik had spent four hours just returning phone calls, responding to messages, and putting out fires that had apparently bombarded Phantom Industries during the one day he was absent. Antoinette had handled most of them, but a few issues went over her head, and could only be dealt with by the boss himself. By the time he felt confident enough to leave, Erik was mentally exhausted. Still, he had promised Christine that he would stop by Leathwood, and he would not fail to fulfill the first request she voiced out loud to him. It made him feel needed when she had done so this morning, proving to him that his wife did indeed require his assistance…even if it was only a small thing. Well, a small thing to _her_ perhaps, but Erik felt oddly nervous about going there unaccompanied by Christine.

He knew Charles Daaé was still in a somewhat vegetative state, yet he could not help but feel a certain amount of animosity radiating off the man whenever he looked at him. Erik had spoken to him at the wedding, but that had been more for his bride's benefit.

Erik had never had to deal with a father-in-law before - mostly since he had never thought to take a wife. And in the mind of her father, that is just what he had done, he had _taken_ Christine. Still, from what Dr. Mills had insinuated, it was going to be some time before Charles Daaé was once again able to move and speak, and by then perhaps he and Christine would be much closer, and hopefully more like a true husband and wife. Then her father would have no room for complaint, no matter how or why the union had been instigated in the first place. Yes, Erik would focus on that, and not overly worry about this simple visit today. More than likely he would not even _see_ her father, just speak with Dr. Mills and then return home to be with Christine.

.

.

When he arrived at the research center, Erik headed down the hall to the room number where Christine had often mentioned her father resided. He would inform the nurse on duty of his wife's illness and explain why she would not be visiting until she was better, before heading off in search of the doctor. Yet when he came to the appropriate door, he nearly collided with the friendly nurse he had been introduced to the day he had moved Charles to Leathwood. Susan, if he remembered correctly. She gave him a warm smile, though she appeared to be on her way out, pushing a large machine.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Thorn," she greeted him, seeming to be a bit surprised to see him there. "If you're here to visit Charles, it's a perfect time for it. I have to take his monitoring system to the computer room to be downloaded, so you two will not be interrupted."

"Actually, I was hoping to talk with Dr. Mills," he interjected, not liking the woman's suggestion at all. "Christine asked me to let you know that she is down with a cold and feels it is best to stay away until she is better. She asked me to make sure her father did not catch it as well when she was here the other day."

"Oh, the poor thing," Susan exclaimed. "I hope she feels better soon. And tell her not to worry, her father's pumped so full of antibiotics and vitamins right now, he could fight off Ebola." She took a few moments to laugh at her own joke, but then sobered quickly. "I'm sure her father would like to hear all about it though, so would you please keep him company while I'm gone? I'll be sure to drop by Dr. Mills' office on my way and let him know you're here to see him." And before Erik could further protest, Susan headed off down the hallway, pushing the monitor in front of her.

Erik was stuck. He supposed he could just leave, go sit in the waiting room and ask them to page the doctor for him…or he could man-up and just go visit Christine's father. He hated feeling trapped, or forced into anything, and yet, he also had an overwhelming sensation that this was something he _needed_ to do. Yet nothing outweighed his desire to please Christine, and Erik knew for a fact that visiting with the man would indeed bring a smile to her face. So biting the bullet, so to speak, he entered the room.

Charles Daaé was sitting beside his bed in his wheelchair, his head and eyes looking straight ahead. There was a small bench next to him and Erik slowly made his way over to it and sat down. It was a bit unnerving to have someone looking directly at you, yet feeling as if they were instead seeing right through you. Having people stare at him was not something Erik enjoyed, even if he knew the man was not doing it on purpose. It made his skin crawl, and he could feel a touch of rage creeping up, but he fought to keep it at bay. This man was no threat to him…at least not at the present time. He often wondered what Charles might have to say once he was able to speak. Erik could only imagine the earful he would receive when that day came.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Daaé," Erik began, clearing his throat. "Christine asked me to stop by and explain her absence yesterday and today. You see, she has caught a cold. Perhaps Dr. Mills has mentioned this to you? Yet, if it was news to your nurse, I suspect not." Erik felt like he was rambling, but could not seem to stop himself. Why did this man rattle him so? He had spoken to heads of state, politicians, and even those involved in organized crime without flinching, and yet this one elderly man was making him sweat. He did _not_ like it.

Feeling unnerved, Erik rose and began to pace the room, glancing at the door more than once. How long did it take to deliver a machine and notify a doctor? When he began to feel his actions appeared foolish, he came back and retook his seat.

"Christine is doing fine though," he blurted out, unable to think of anything else to talk about. "I made sure that she was immediately seen by a physician, I have been giving her medicine, and seeing that she remains fed and well hydrated." When he heard his own words he realized how ridiculous they sounded. He made it seem like he was describing a pet…not his wife. He really needed to get a hold of himself. So taking a few deep breaths, he looked the man square in the eye and told him exactly what he thought he needed to hear. "I am taking very good care of your daughter, Mr. Daaé, of that I can assure you. I can only imagine what you must think about all this, as well as me, and you are probably very justified in having such thoughts - but I swear that I would _never_ do anything to harm your daughter. I might have only met her a little over a month ago, but that does not mean that I have not developed a very strong attachment to her. And even if our marriage was a bit rushed, or unconventional, that does not make it any less real…at least not for me."

The last words left Erik's lips in almost a whisper, and he found himself having to pause in order to regain his composure. Glancing away, he took a deep breath and then straightened up, looking Charles directly in the eyes once more as he continued in a strong and sure voice.

"I swear that I will do everything in my power to see that Christine is happy and well cared for, lacking nothing materially, financially…or emotionally, if I have a say in the matter." That had been quite a heartfelt speech, and it shocked Erik that not only had it been somewhat cathartic…he had meant every word. He had often heard that when one confesses one's sins, it takes a weight off their mind, and Erik suddenly realized just how true that was. By telling her father exactly how he felt, a burden had been lifted off of him. Dared he go one step further? Should he chance it? Well…what did he have to lose?

"When I first met Christine…she bewitched me. I had not been looking for a companion, never dreaming that there might be someone out there who I could ever develop legitimate feelings for, and yet after one look into her beautiful eyes, I knew I was lost forever. I won't pretend that I have always been a model citizen, and I know I do not deserve one as pure and kind as she, but…I… _I love her_. Even though I have very little experience with this emotion, there is no denying that this is what I feel for your daughter. I love Christine with everything I have…mind, heart, and body."

There! He had said it… _out loud!_ Granted it was not to the person that mattered most, but just speaking the words gave him a measure of strength. For if he could confess such things to her father, perhaps one day, and one day soon, he could say the same thing to Christine. He only prayed that in time she might speak them in return. Charles Daaé had not said a word, or given any indication that he was even listening, and yet Erik was satisfied. He had confessed his true feelings and even if this angered her father, his conscience was clear. Maybe coming here was not such a bad idea after all.

Erik was about to launch into another one way conversation about how well Christine had done during her audition at Juilliard, when there came a knock on the still open door, announcing the presence of Dr. Mills.

"I was told you were here to see me," he greeted, walking in and shaking Erik's hand as he stood from the bench. "I hope your wife is feeling better."

"Yes, much better, thank you," Erik nodded, looking back at Charles as if he felt he was excluding the man from the conversation. "I was just explaining to her father why she had not been by to visit."

"Of course, not only should she stay in bed, it is not wise for her to be interacting with others right now either," he nodded. "I presume you have not become infected yourself?"

"I told you, I do not get sick," Erik reminded him. "I neither have the time nor the patience for such nonsense."

"Spoken like a true businessman," Mills laughed, then turned his attention to Charles. "You would be very proud of your son-in-law, calling me in the middle of the night to come out and attend to Christine when all she had was a simple cold."

"Where Christine's health is concerned, nothing is _simple_ ," Erik stated, his tone turning sharp. "Nor will I spare any expense to see that she is looked after properly."

"I stand corrected," the doctor said with a grin, having become slightly accustomed to Erik's rather abrupt manner. "Your devotion to your wife does you credit, Mr. Thorn."

Just then Susan came back into the room, pushing a new monitor that looked exactly like the one she had wheeled away.

"I see Dr. Mills found you," she smiled. "Thank you for keeping my patient company while I was gone. But if you two will excuse me, I need to get him hooked back up so we can continue to chart his vitals."

"Yes, of course," Mills agreed, gesturing for Erik to follow him out of the room.

Erik took a step to go, but then turned back and nodded his head respectfully towards Charles.

"I thank you for allowing me to visit, Mr. Daaé," he told him in all sincerity. "I hope we can find the time to speak again." And with that, he left the room.

* * *

 **First of all...I've had several of you ask if I could add in some bits about what Charles is thinking, and while I did take that into consideration, I am going to have to decline. Not that I don't think it was a great idea, but having the reader 'hear' what he is thinking would mess things up later on. As you can see from this chapter, Erik feels a bit free to tell Charles his secrets, and if you get to take a peek into his mind, you will find out what Erik's secrets are before you're supposed to. So, again, thanks for the wonderful idea, I just don't think I can do it without damaging the suspense I have planned for this story. IF Charles ever gets better (wink wink) he will more than likely tell everyone what he was thinking and feeling while he was unable to speak.**

 **Now...looks like Christine is getting over her cold, probably because Erik did such a fine job taking care of her.**

 **And Christine said goodbye to him as he left for work. Awwww.**

 **Wow...Erik said the L word...and he MEANT it too! Too bad he told her father and not the girl who needs to hear it. ha ha. Silly Erik.  
**

 **Have a nice weekend.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest:** Yep, Erik taking care of Christine would be one of his 'couples goals'. ha ha. How long do I think this story will "go"? Well, I have written up to chapter 42 now...but I can't really say how FAR I will take it. But I do know that I will not be taking it to when a child...IF there is a child... turns 18. ha ha. Sad to say...at some point it will HAVE To end, but I really thank you for not wanting it to! Thanks.

 **Wolf:** It is? Well thank you! I do love to write details, but that of course makes the story extra, extra long. I honestly don't know how to write a 'short' story! Thanks and was this fast enough for you?

 **Guest:** Wow, you did your homework, $15 a sip for that champagne? Yep, I'm with you...I'll stick to soda or Kool-aid. ha ha.

 **Kristin:** Erik has always been super sweet...he just doesn't show it much. ha ha. Except for Christine that is. Yes, Erik would make her health his top priority for sure. She will be well soon and there will be plenty of banter and fun to come. Thanks

 **Guest:** Erik DOES deserve some extra points for his skill in taking care of sick Christine. Yep, Amir has it right...Erik is insane...but in a very lovable way. I'm very happy my posting makes you happy...your reviews me ME happy too! Thanks.


	19. Chapter 19

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 **Ready for a teenie bit of backstory? Here it comes.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 19**

 **~X~**

* * *

Erik spent a few minutes discussing things with Dr. Mills, having the physician fill him in on everything concerning Charles' case. He knew Christine would pepper him with questions as soon as he got home, and he did not wish to run the risk of not being able to answer any of them.

He was still a bit perplexed about why he had felt the desire to open up to the man like he had, saying things he _never_ meant to reveal…at least not this early in the game. Yet knowing that Mr. Daaé was unable to repeat his words, or respond in any negative way, made Erik feel uninhibited about confessing his feelings for Christine. Besides, he told himself, wouldn't every father want to hear such things? To know that the man his daughter had married did indeed worship the ground she walked upon? That he would do anything in his power to see that she was well cared for and treated with tenderness and affection? In the end, Erik decided he had indeed done the right thing…or at least he hoped so.

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When Erik arrived home, he once again found Amir standing outside the garage, absentmindedly staring at his phone, as if patiently waiting for his return. Once out of the car, he approached his friend, who was leaning up against the wall, not appearing to be in any rush to speak.

"May I assume from your stance that everything is all right?" Erik questioned.

"Yep," Amir replied, not even looking up from the cell phone his eyes were glued upon.

"Nothing amiss? No news to report?" Erik pressed.

"Nope," came his response.

"Then why, may I ask, are you standing out here as if you were eager to speak to me, yet giving only one word answers?" This was getting a bit ridiculous.

"Where else would I be?" Amir asked, yet still not looking in Erik's direction. "My job is to watch over Christine. I certainly can't do so in her bedroom…"

"No, you can't!" Erik cut him off, agreeing wholeheartedly with the Persian.

"…so I figured the next best thing was to guard the house she's in," he finished, barely acknowledging that Erik had spoken. "I was making my rounds about the estate when I got the alert that you were on your way back."

"Alert?" Erik asked, knowing he had not notified Amir of his impending return.

"You think you're the only one who knows how to monitor someone using their cell phone?" the Persian laughed, holding up his own and wiggling it back and forth in front of him. "I have both Christine, _and_ you, LoJacked."

Erik was not quite sure how he felt about that. While he hardly cared if Amir knew where he went, it still bothered him to think that he was being spied on. Years of having people watch and stare at him had caused Erik to covet his privacy, and yet, after what Amir had done for him in the past…he supposed he could overlook this _one_ offense. Besides, it was not like he didn't know how to disable the function on his phone if he so wished it. He would just have to play it by ear.

"Speaking of you and your travels. I see you went to visit Christine's father at Leathwood. How'd that go?" Amir asked.

"Surprisingly well," Erik mused, still finding it quite strange how comfortable he had been opening up to the incapacitated man. "We had a very… _satisfying_ visit."

"Leave it to you to find an inordinate amount of pleasure in speaking with a man who can't talk back," his friend snorted, eyeing him skeptically. Erik appeared somewhat different to him…calmer, more at ease. He wondered just what the cause might be.

"He was still a far better conversationalist than you," Erik shot back, enjoying the way his jab made Amir's eyes narrow in irritation. "Oh, and before I forget," he added, continuing on the high from getting the upper hand, "You owe me a hundred dollars…pay up."

"What? Why?" Amir questioned in protest.

"You failed to watch Christine, thus you owe me compensation," he insisted.

"When? I've not left the premises all day, and I can assure you, she's never been out of my protection!" Amir argued.

"The night she got sick," Erik informed him, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at Amir with determination. "I told you to watch her while I called the doctor. When I left the room she was safe in our bed…yet when I returned, you were nowhere to be found and Christine was lying on the floor. Hence, you failed in your assignment." He held out his hand, snapping his fingers a few times before opening his palm. "Fork it over."

"I was getting her a drink of water!" Amir bellowed, obviously feeling maligned. Yet, that didn't stop him from reaching into his pocket and taking a hundred dollar bill out of his wallet - quite possibly the very same one which had changed hands more times than they could count - begrudgingly handing it over.

"That is beside the point," Erik told him with a shake of his head, taking the money and tucking it into his jacket pocket. "Perhaps next time I tell you to do something, you will take me seriously!"

"I said it before, and I'll say it again, you are certifiably insane, Erik Thorn!" Amir huffed. "Why I even continue bothering with you is beyond me." He then turned and began to walk back towards his little bungalow. "I'm officially turning guard duty back over to you for the night. I have a date, and I won't be back till late…if at all!"

"See you in the morning," Erik retorted, not bothering to give any credence to Amir's unveiled threat. He knew the man would never desert him. They both shared far too much history for that. Then with a chuckle, he headed into the house in search of Christine.

.

.

He found her resting dutifully in bed, and even though he was weary from everyone bombarding him with requests and demands at the office, he allowed his little angel to fire question after question at him about his visit with her father. When he told her that they had spoken…well, he had talked and her father had listened…Erik couldn't help but notice the surprise that flashed in her eyes before she quickly tried to hide it. He didn't mind, however, it still shocked him a bit as well.

Erik brought dinner up to her, placing a bed tray over her lap as he pulled up a chair and ate beside her, the two of them talking about nothing really, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. He still regretted that she was ill, but he was suddenly seeing the upside to having his new wife confined to one place – and the bedroom no less! Perhaps this was why newly married couples chose to go on honeymoons…for it would afford them plenty of time alone early on in their relationship. For the more she talked, the more he learned about her, and the more in love he fell. Oh, of course he knew he loved her long before this, how could he not? Yet as Christine sat in the bed, telling him some ridiculous story about a pigeon that used to nest on the fire escape outside her apartment window, he found it impossible not to be enchanted by her every word. She was truly amazing.

"And that's why I never hung any of my father's shirts out to dry on our balcony ever again," she finished, laughing at the humor in her own story as she popped the last bite of dinner into her mouth.

"Well, I am sure your father was grateful of that!" Erik chuckled, just imagining Charles Daaé's embarrassment at showing up for work that evening with pigeon excrement all down the back of his best dress shirt. "And you will be happy to know that I have my shirts sent out to be laundered, so you need never concern yourself with such things."

"It is probably best that way," she mumbled, her cheeks turning a bit red as she fiddled with the linen napkin on her tray. "I've also been known to forget to properly separate the laundry from time to time, and a few of our white clothes turned a lovely shade of pink."

Erik couldn't help but laugh at the idea of him going to the office wearing a pink dress shirt. Oh, Antoinette would have a field day with that…not to mention Amir! Seeing that she was finished eating, Erik removed the tray and set it aside, not willing to cut their happy conversation short. Yet as he did, Christine asked an odd question, changing the subject out of the blue.

"What is Gerald's last name?"

"Why do you ask?" he responded, doing his best not to smile. Gerald had texted him the day of Christine's audition, warning him that she might attempt to extract this information, and citing the reason why he wished to keep it a secret. Erik had agreed, not liking the idea of Christine having any leverage on the man in order to coax him into calling her by her given name. While he trusted Gerald implicitly, knowing the character and moral code of the man in his employment, it still bothered him to think of the two having such an intimate acquaintance. Christine was his wife, and he would insist that anyone in his employment, other than perhaps Amir and Antoinette, refer to her as Mrs. Thorn. If nothing else, the title would remind everyone speaking to her that she was _his_!

"I was just curious," she lied, a devious smile spreading across her lips at the thought of learning her driver's well-kept secret. "You just never told me what it was, is all."

"Oh, how negligent of me," he mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I guess I had not even thought about it, since his last name is rather long and hard to pronounce. I just find it easier to call him Gerald. I am sure you would feel the same, so no sense in you bothering to learn it."

"No…I really want to know," she insisted, hating to think she was not going to get her answer. "Even if it's long…and I never use it, I'd still like you to tell me."

"Very well," he nodded, sitting back down in his chair and leaning in for dramatic effect. "His last name is…" he could see her eyes grow wide with anticipation, hanging on his next words with great anticipation. "…Rumpelstiltskin." Erik almost burst out laughing at her look of confusion and disappointment upon hearing his confession.

"What?" she cried, folding her arms over her chest as she stuck her lip out in an adorable pout. "Come on, be serious!"

"I am being serious," he assured her. "I am _seriously_ not going to tell you what Gerald's surname is. He asked me not to, and I will respect his request. Besides, I agree with his motives. He should not be referring to you by anything except Mrs. Thorn. It is not professional."

"Professional or not…I still find it highly irritating," she huffed.

"Why?" Erik asked, his tone now conveying hurt by her words. "Are you ashamed of your new last name?"

"NO!" she was quick to assure him, not having meant that at all. "I didn't mean it _that_ way! I think Thorn is a very nice name. It just makes me feel…well, _uncomfortable_ having people act like I'm superior to them by referring to me in that manner."

"You _are_ superior to them!" Erik argued, for in his eyes she was. "You are Christine Thorn, my wife, and one word from you could easily mean their termination! They know this, and they will treat you accordingly, or they will feel my wrath."

"Oh, please don't say things like that, Erik," she begged. "No one's been anything but kind to me, and I'd hate for them to imagine their jobs hinge on their ability to make me happy."

"But it does," Erik began once again, not wanting there to be any confusion on the matter, but she cut him off before he could continue.

"No one can make another person _be_ happy, Erik," she told him in no uncertain terms. "We're all in charge of our own joy. Whether we choose to be happy in life, or bitter and resentful, that's solely up to us. That's why they invented the saying, 'you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink'. So please, promise me that you'll not scare everyone into bowing and scraping to me just to gain my favor. I want people to like me for who I am…and not because if they don't, they think you'll fire them."

Erik stared at her for a long while, trying his best to digest her words. It amazed him how Christine looked at the world. And while he would love to be as open and honest as she was with her acquaintances…he knew that was never going to be a possibility for him. All his life, Erik had fought to acquire power and instill fear, just to gain the acceptance she talked about. Scaring everyone into doing as he bid was his go-to tactic, the one thing that seemed to work for him, and yet she shunned it. Christine was beauty itself, so why _wouldn't_ people instantly like her? She did not need to employ such strategies…but Erik did! Still, he could see her line of thinking, and he nodded in agreement.

"Very well, I will attempt to not give that impression to my employees," he nodded, wondering just how hard changing his attitude on this subject might actually be. But for Christine…he would try. There was an awkward silence that followed, causing Erik to blurt out the first thing that came to his mind, in hopes of changing the subject to something less weighty. "Have you given any more thought on where you might like to go for our honeymoon, Christine?"

This seemed to have taken her off guard, her eyebrows raising in surprise at his out of the blue question.

"I…no," she admitted, sitting back a bit and leaning her head against the headboard as she appeared to give the idea consideration. "I suppose it depends on what time of year we might go…or where you'd like. I've not really been anywhere, so just about any place would be new and exciting. However, if I'm required to give a location…I suppose my first choice would be…Paris, France?" When Erik did not respond, simply stared back at her with an unreadable expression, she suddenly questioned her choice. "Unless you'd rather not go to France," she quickly interjected. "I mean, I'm sure you've been all over the world…have _you_ ever been to Paris?"

"Yes…yes, I have," he answered, his voice devoid of all emotion. "I was born there."

"You were?" This was indeed news to Christine, and she suddenly wanted to hear more, despite Erik's obvious lack of enthusiasm on the subject. "How long did you live there? Were your parents French? Why don't you speak with an accent? Thorn does not sound very much like a French name."

"It is not," he replied, choosing to answer her final question first. Erik paused there and took a deep breath, extremely reluctant to continue, yet he knew it would upset Christine if he refused to answer what she apparently considered innocent inquiries. "I lived in Paris for the first twelve years of my life. I assume my parents were of French origins, however I was never able to have this confirmed. I have lived so many other places in my life that all traces of any accent I might have acquired has long since been trained out of me. And I myself chose Thorn as my surname, taken from where I grew up, The Thorn Rose Orphanage, on the Rue de Caronad."

Now it was Christine's turn to stare blankly at him while she did her best to articulate a response. Erik knew he had thrown a lot of information her way all at once, and she needed time to assimilate it all. His past was not something he enjoyed talking about, and since few people ever inquired about it, that suited him just fine. However, if Christine was now to take on his chosen last name, it was only fair she knew where it came from.

"You…you don't know who your parents are?" she asked, her voice hardly above a whisper now. "You were raised in an orphanage in France?" As she spoke, she sat up, her hand instantly reaching out to touch his knee in a comforting manner. "You said you lived there until you were twelve…were you adopted, and that's why you left?"

Erik let out a bitter laugh, sitting back in his chair yet never taking his eyes off the delicate hand that now rested on his leg.

"Not hardly," he responded, his expression one of resentment. "No one wants to adopt a little boy with a disfigured face, Christine. Not when he is an infant, nor when he is a pre-teen. I stayed at the orphanage until I was old enough, and strong enough, to set out on my own, and that is just what I did."

"You left the orphanage by yourself?" This time her voice was filled with shock and dismay. "You were just a child, Erik! Where did you live…how did you buy food? How did you survive?"

"The same way I always have, by using my wits, my cunning, and when needed, my fists," he added with a slight hint of anger. "This world may be cruel, Christine, as you yourself have already discovered with the hand you and your father have been dealt, but it also offers a multitude of opportunities to one who is willing to do anything to get what they desire. Everything I have acquired in my life, I worked for, shedding copious amounts of blood and sweat to get it. I learned early on that no one was going to hand me things on a silver platter, and if I wanted it…I would have to find a way to get it myself. So, yes, Christine, I left the orphanage, and France, when I was twelve and never looked back."

"Erik…I'm so sorry," she once again whispered, looking at him with all the sorrow in the world. "I…I didn't mean to dredge up painful memories for you. Please forgive me."

At her gentle plea, Erik released the breath he had been holding and all his anger and resentment went with it. Christine had not known that her questions would trigger such a reaction in him, nor did she realize why he would prefer that they not honeymoon in France. Still, in a very similar way to how he had felt when he had finished speaking with her father, it was as if by telling her this, a weight had been lifted from Erik's shoulders…however, he would not be confessing _all_ his sins to her. For that, he was certain, would cause Christine to leave him at a dead run, screaming at the top of her lungs. Yet for now, this was quite enough of a reveal. He didn't wish to bombard her with too much.

"There is nothing for me to forgive, my dear," he told her, sitting up and taking hold of the hand that still rested on his knee. He gave it a gentle squeeze as he pasted on a weak smile. "We all have our demons to battle, and sins from our past we must take out once in a while and face. You asked valid questions, and I will attempt to answer those that I can…as long as it does not bring you into any danger by my telling you. As I stated before our marriage began, there are things about my life that must remain private…for your safety, as well as mine. Yet, I do not blame you for being inquisitive, nor do I hold you accountable or require an apology."

"Thank you for telling me," she smiled, her heart doing a small flip flop at the warm touch of his hand on hers. She was becoming more and more at ease with her husband, learning all kinds of things about his character through his thoughtful gestures and polite conversation. Yet it broke her heart to think of what he must have gone through as a child and young adult, what struggles and battles he had to face to get where he was today. When she thought about all that, Christine was beginning to understand his motives for this unorthodox marriage. Had his past shaped his views so much, that this had been the only way he thought himself capable of obtaining a wife? If so…she truly pitied him.

She was broken from her thoughts by the sudden and urgent need to sneeze, so pulling her hand out of his gentle grasp, Christine grabbed the edge of the blanket covering her, and buried her face in it just in time. This was a new symptom of her illness.

"See!" Erik insisted, his eyes growing dark as he looked at her. "I told you this was something you contracted from that blasted professor! Was he not sneezing just the same as you?"

Christine opened her mouth to speak, prepared to defend the allergic professor once more, yet three more violent attacks came upon her in quick succession, leaving her a bit winded. When she felt that had been the last of it, she lay down once more and shut her eyes, feeling a bit drained.

"I think it might be time for me to go to bed," she mumbled, snuggling in a bit more so that she was lying down and not sitting up any longer.

"Of course, I have kept you talking far longer than I should have," Erik agreed, reaching out as he tucked her arms inside and pulled the covers up to her chin. "I have a small amount of work I still need to finish up, but I promise to be very quiet and allow you to sleep. If you need anything, please let me know."

Christine was quickly growing sleepy, but his offer sparked a sudden desire in her, causing her eyes to open as she looked up at him hopefully.

"Could you…I mean, would it be too much trouble to ask if you might play your violin for me?" she asked, longing to hear his beautiful music once again. "My father always played for me when I was sick, or couldn't fall asleep. It always made me feel better."

"I would be happy to, my dear," he nodded, a tender smile gracing his lips. He was also becoming rather fond of using endearments when speaking to her, 'my dear' now one of his favorites.

Erik quickly excused himself, returning in no time holding his hand crafted violin. Christine had forced herself to remain awake, anxious to hear him play. When he began, the song a sweet and soothing lullaby, a delighted smile spread across her face and she shut her eyes in pleasure. This was nice…no, more than nice, it was perfect. Burrowing down even farther into the feather-soft bed, Christine shut her eyes and allowed the comforting sounds Erik coaxed from the instrument to lull her to sleep.

Erik played on long after he knew she had drifted off, yet the smile never left her delicate lips. When at last he stilled his bow, he found he could not help himself, and leaned in, desperate to feel just how soft they might be against his own. Yet at the last second he hesitated, halting his original intent and instead gracing her forehead with his intended kiss. Even that was enough to send him reeling, his heart beating wildly at the thought of one day being allowed to offer such affectionate gestures while she was awake…and hopefully receive them in return. Yet that time was not now, and Erik had to be satisfied with stolen moments like these for just a little longer.

 _Oh, the torture!_

* * *

 **Sorry Erik, you brought it on yourself by offering her the two months to get better acquainted. I feel no pity for you. _  
_**

 **Well, now you know a bit about Erik's history...not much, but some.**

 **And Christine is no closer to finding out what Gerald's last name is. Drat!**

 **Awwww, Erik played for her to put her to sleep. Very kind.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest C:** Oh yes, Erik was over the moon by her telling him goodbye as he left for work. Yep, Meg will be a good buddy for sure. And they can hang out at school too! Oh yes, Erik has faced danger and more, but trying to talk to a father-in-law...Petrifying. ha ha. I think the spike in blood pressure says it all, right? Watch out Erik. Thanks!

 **Kristin:** Here was your Moooooreeeee. Did you like it? Thanks.

 **Guest:** Ummm, I have to think of kids names? Dang...hadn't thought of that. And I really do hate coming up with names...I really do. ha ha. And why do YOU need boy and girl names? Are YOU expecting? Thanks.

 **Guest:** Hey, someone just asked that question...and I still have NO IDEA. *sigh* I suppose I better start thinking...Erik is kind of insistent on seeing that part of the contract fulfilled. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Wolf:** Thanks. I will keep them coming quite frequesntly. And I'm happy you liked it. Tootles.


	20. Chapter 20

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 **Happy Wednesday!**

 **Guest S:** Yep, Christine is beginning to see that things won't be as horrible as she imagined. And no, I have NEVER been accused of having things happen too quickly. ha ha. You did indeed guess all five new characters. Good for you. Glad you like Meg. I found modern fic writing is fun because you can use a lot of slang, or idioms that you can't when writing them in a period fic. BUT...I have found that more people are critical of Erik's 'ways' in modern day settings...as in, Christine should have pepper sprayed him and called the cops. ha ha. Erik is not exactly level headed where Christine's health is concerned. He tends to overreact...A LOT. ha ha. But the illness has bonded them, so that was nice. As for my writing, my secret is that Erik lives with me, and sits at my side and tells me what to write (most of the time). Often if he is composing music I can write in a funny or embarrassing scene on my own. ha ha. You should get an Erik...they're great!

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 **Chapter 20**

 **~X~**

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Christine woke early the next morning, even before the sun had chosen to shine through her window and do the honors itself. All that sleeping over the past few days must have been the cause, since she was nowhere near an early riser. She was not surprised to find that Erik was already up and dressed, sitting in the chair beside the bed and working on his laptop. He smiled when he saw her stir, reaching out to hand her a glass of ice cold orange juice in anticipation of her needs.

"I am pleased that you are awake," he said, shutting his computer and setting it aside. "I was hoping that you might inform me of your choices in classes so that I could have your forms dropped off at Juilliard today. If your current state is any indication, you will be more than ready to attend classes come Monday, and it would be beneficial if you were properly enrolled in them."

"Oh, yes!" she agreed, sitting up as she finished the last of her juice. "I looked over the papers when I was visiting with my father, and I know exactly which ones I'd like to take."

"Excellent," he nodded, reaching over and retrieving the aforementioned documents from off the night stand and handing them to her along with a pen. "I have filled out all the mundane things, like name, social security number, emergency contact information, and the like. All you need to do is check the boxes and sign your name. And while it irritates me to say this, be sure to sign it Christine Daaé, since they still have you listed under your maiden name."

"Right. I'll be sure to amend that sometime next week, once I get a bit more comfortable with my classes," she promised. This seemed to satisfy Erik and she quickly completed the forms, handing them back to him with a wide smile.

"I will see that these are delivered today," he told her, slipping them into the briefcase that was leaning against the chair he sat in. "I also think that you are well enough to be out of bed today, perhaps finding something to entertain yourself with downstairs? I would not recommend you leaving the house just yet, however. You do not want to risk having a relapse. Besides, I will require the limo today, so Gerald will not be available to drive you anywhere."

"That's fine, the only place I'd wish to go is to see my father, and I won't risk going there until I'm completely well," she assured him. "You did say that he was doing fine when you saw him, right? No sniffles or fever?"

"He was in perfect health," he promised, then quickly amended his statement. "Well, as perfect as he could be in his current condition. And, as I stated, Dr. Mills informed me that he is responding well and they still have high hopes of the medicine reversing those debilitating effects. You will simply need to remain patient and optimistic."

"Oh, I will!" she smiled, just happy to have any hope at all, no matter how slim or how long it took. After all, she had signed her name on Erik's contract, putting herself in for the long haul…apparently all she had now _was_ time.

"Very well, now, if you wish to rise and bathe, I will go fetch you some breakfast, and then I must be off to work," he told her, standing up and heading for the door. "Mrs. Murphy won't be here until later, Janet will be around if you need anything though. And of course Amir is remaining on the premises, so he is only a phone call away."

"It would appear you've thought of everything," she smiled.

"As is my duty as your husband," Erik informed her in a matter of fact tone, as if she should know that already. "Now, do you feel up for eggs this morning, or would apple cinnamon oatmeal be more to your stomach's liking?"

"May I please have scrambled eggs and toast?" she asked shyly, her hands covering her midsection as it gave a bit of an angry growl. "And…maybe some bacon?"

"As my wife commands," Erik smiled, giving her a small bow as he left the room.

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Later, as Erik sat in the back of the limousine, looking over the stack of papers he needed to deal with that day, he could not seem to wipe the smile off his face. His wife had once again bid him a fond farewell and wished him a good day at work. Things with Christine were going better than he had ever hoped they might, and in such a short time! Granted, they had a rocky beginning, and a few bumps since then as well, but on the whole, he couldn't be more pleased.

Oddly enough, Christine getting sick could almost be considered a good thing. It afforded Erik the opportunity to prove to her what a good husband he could be, to show her that he was both willing and capable of caring for her needs. Being able to spend more time with her had also been pleasant, even if she was asleep for most of it. If things kept going the way they were, perhaps his delectable little wife might be willing to forego the proffered month-long wait, before they might engage in intimate behavior. _Oh, he certainly hoped so!_

 _._

 _._

The day had proved to be a long one, made even more so by the fact that Erik could not seem to keep Christine off his mind, always wondering what she was doing. Imagining that she might be sitting on the sofa in the entertainment room reading a book, or watching another one of those sappy romantic movies she seemed to like so much. Or perhaps, she was taking a nap, her eyes closed and her long eyelashes resting gently against her skin as she breathed in and out, her perfect lips turned up in a slight smile. Yes, those were the thoughts that plagued Erik all day, causing the clients he was speaking with to eye him questioningly a few times when his mind seemed to be miles away.

"Here are those files you wanted," Antoinette said, holding them out to him as he leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the armrest. When he gave no response, not even acting as if he noticed her there, she waved the manila folders in front of his face. "Hello, earth to Mr. Thorn," she chuckled, believing she knew just what…or who, was occupying his thoughts.

This time her words made their way through to his distracted mind and he sat up straight, giving her a stern glare, quickly taking the pages without bothering to give a reply.

"I take it that Christine's cold is better?" she mused, taking a seat in front of the desk and settling back as if she expected an answer.

"She is doing remarkably well," Erik informed her, still keeping his tone noncommittal. "Today she even got out of bed and ate a sizable breakfast."

"I'm glad," she nodded thoughtfully. "Meg will be happy to hear it as well, since she is looking forward to hanging out with her on Monday."

"Just be sure your daughter is not a distraction for Christine," Erik warned, glancing up for the first time. "She is already starting her classes late in the year, I do not wish for her to fall behind and become discouraged."

"A little girl talk and an occasional lunch is all Meg has time for as well," Antoinette assured him. "You know how dedicated she is to her dancing. That girl would rather spend an extra hour in the practice room than go bar hopping or take in a movie. If Christine is as serious about her craft as my daughter is about hers, theirs will be the perfect friendship."

"As long as it pleases Christine, then I have no objections," Erik nodded. He was about to say something more, but a slight vibration in his jacket pocket alerted him that he had just received a text. Thinking it was either work related, or possibly Amir giving him his usual updates, he slipped it out to take a look. Yet what Erik saw had him frozen in place, staring at the screen as if before him lay the cure for cancer.

"What is it?" Antoinette asked, noting that Erik was clearly rattled.

"It…it is a text," he answered. "From… _Christine_."

"Oh?" Now things made sense. While she was not certain, Antoinette had a sneaky suspicion that this was the first one Erik had received from her, and it appeared to have him quite stunned. "And what does she have to say?" As if it was any of her business.

"She wants to know if pork chops sound good for dinner," he told her, his voice low and quiet. "She texted me to ask what I thought about the choice for dinner tonight," he repeated, apparently unable to fathom his own delight over such a mundane inquiry.

"And _do_ you want pork chops for dinner?" Antoinette prompted, thinking it best that he reply back at some point, yet deep down she realized just how significant this was to him. The fact that Christine was now feeling comfortable enough to contact him of her own free will, spoke volumes about their relationship. Perhaps there was hope for them yet.

Apparently Antoinette's question broke Erik free from his trance, and he quickly tapped at the screen to answer back, telling her that her choice for dinner sounded perfectly fine with him. He then asked how she was feeling, hit the send button and stared at the phone in hopes of receiving a reply back. He was not disappointed, for soon a little text box appeared, informing him that she was feeling well, was bored sitting around, and had watched two movies. A wide grin spread over his face as he once more sent a message back to her, telling her he would be home by five, and to be sure to get some rest. When he was all finished, he sat back in his chair and just stared at the phone with a smile of pure joy. She had texted him. _Christine had sent him a text!_ All the thoughts Erik had been mulling over on the way to work were beginning to become more and more concrete, they were indeed making great strides in this marriage. He only hoped he could keep it going.

"Well," Antoinette said with a chuckle as she rose to her feet. "I can see that it will be useless trying to get you to focus on work for a while, so I'll leave you alone. Just remember, you need to make a decision on the Hamilton account before you go home. And while I know it's not as exciting as deciding if you want pork chops or not for dinner, it is no less important." And before Erik could shoot her a withering look, or bark out a snide remark, she left the office, silently laughing all the way.

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.

As it turned out, Erik breezed through the rest of his work that day with ease, finishing early and allowing him to take off sooner than expected. Apparently, being in a good mood worked wonders, and even the most tedious job seemed more manageable. As he climbed into the limo, Gerald informing him that he had indeed dropped off the paperwork at Juilliard like he requested, Erik suddenly had the urge to drive by Leathwood on the way home. He had told Christine he would not be home until five, and he still had enough time for a short visit. Not only would it please his wife to hear more about her father and his condition, Erik himself felt the need to visit the man again. His last conversation with him had been very therapeutic, and he found he wished to share the happiness he felt in his relationship with someone. So informing Gerald of their new destination, Erik leaned his head back against the seat and thought of Christine.

Once again, upon arriving at the research facility, Erik located Charles in his room, the dutiful nurse, Susan, ever present and quietly reading to him out of what appeared to be some romance novel. Erik could not help but smile inwardly, wondering if Christine's father was enjoying the bodice-ripper of a story, or if he was slowly going insane. Still, Susan was a very pleasant looking woman, and perhaps hearing such a thing read in a female voice made it tolerable. When she noticed Erik standing there in the doorway, she halted her narrative and rose from the chair.

"Hello again, Mr. Thorn," she greeted pleasantly. "I see you've returned for another visit with Charles. Probably best, I'm sure he's getting rather tired of hearing me yammer on all day. Would you like some coffee? I could run down to the cafeteria and get you some while you two talk."

"That would be very kind," Erik agreed, not really wanting anything to drink, but if it bought him some time alone with his father-in-law, he was all for it. He nodded politely as she left the room, smiling as she went.

Now alone, Erik sat down in the seat she had vacated, picking up the book and turning it over so he could see the title.

"Siren of the Sea," he read aloud, glancing over at Charles with a look of skepticism. "At least the story appears to be centered around a pirate ship, and if you are lucky, there might be one or two good sword fights to keep you entertained. If you would like, I could bring a few books on the history of music for her to read instead?" When he gave no indication of his preference, Erik set the book back down and dropped the subject. As he looked over at the monitor that the older man was hooked up to, he could see that the numbers for his blood pressure had risen by several points, and he wondered if that had anything to do with his presence. Erik could easily imagine that he was still not one of Charles' favorite people, but perhaps more visits like this would alter that. Or at least he hoped.

So, purposefully ignoring any more changes in the man's vitals, Erik started in on one of the only two subjects he knew they both had in common…Christine. Where last time he had fought for things to discuss, this time the words seemed to flow from him with ease, informing him of such things as Christine's choices in classes, how she was feeling, what she had for breakfast, and even relating the story his little wife had told him about the pigeon pooping on her father's shirt. He wondered if the fact that she had told him such things about her past might buy him some good will with the man before him.

Erik went on talking, drifting into his thoughts on music, his preference when it came to wine and certain foods - making sure to inform him that pork chops were currently at the top of the list. Yet when his conversation led to current events, and the state of the world in general, that is where he found his mood becoming more serious. Somehow, during all the small talk, he had begun to reveal more and more about his dislike for the world in general…or more specifically, the people who had contributed to making it the mess that it currently was.

"I am not saying I hate people as a whole," he informed the quiet man. "I have just seen far too many in this world who are willing to beat a person down over things they are unable to change. I have not always been rich, nor have I always held the power to alter my fate, should I so choose. I fought tooth and nail for everything I have, clawing my way to the top, just so that no one would ever step on me again. I hope you know that I intend on seeing that Christine is never subjected to the worries or horrors this world so cruelly dispenses on a daily basis. She will never know want… _never_ be unprotected."

Erik was beginning to feel oddly content by this point, as if by sharing such things, he was beginning to connect with the man. Erik had never known his father, yet here before him sat the closest thing he might ever get to that relationship. Not wanting the feeling to end, he pressed on.

"I don't want you to think that I chose Christine to be my wife on a mere whim. No, indeed, I could easily see the potential in her, the sleeping diva just waiting for her chance to shine. I also saw in her the rare quality of compassion…and acceptance. There are not many out there in this day and age who would willingly set their lives aside to take care of another, and the fact that she has such a generous spirit is a testimony to how well you raised her. Christine once asked me why I chose her, especially when I had the money and the influence to select anyone I wanted. Do you know what my response was? I told her, 'why _not_ her'. As you can imagine, that particular answer did not set well with Christine."

As Erik's eyes turned towards Charles' monitor, he could see that this answer had not pleased Christine's father either. So he quickly carried on, speaking in his own defense.

"However, at the time, things were far too new for me to reveal my innermost thoughts or intentions. For all I knew, Christine could still have turned me down, telling me off and leaving my office never to return." Erik stopped there and gave Charles a look of pure admiration. "Did she ever tell you that is exactly what she did…at first? That little spitfire of yours gave me quite the dressing down and stormed out like she owned the place and everyone in it. I knew right then that there would never be anyone other than her for me."

Erik was prepared to say more, but footsteps at the door alerted him to the return of Nurse Susan, holding a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. Erik quickly rose, as all men should do when a lady enters a room.

"You never said if you liked cream or sugar," she told him as she crossed the room and handed it to him. "So I hope you like it black."

"Yes, that is perfect, thank you," he told her, taking a cursory sip, and finding it not to be as hideous tasting as he expected. Erik was very particular about his coffee, and it seemed that Leathwood managed to offer a decent cup.

"So, have you and my favorite patient been having a good visit?" she asked, sitting down and crossing her legs.

"I would like to think so," Erik nodded. He was happy to see that most of Charles' vital signs had returned to normal levels by now, not alerting anyone to the man's dislike of him. "Yet, all good things must come to an end, and so has my time here. I need to get home to Christine, and see how she is faring today. Apparently we are having pork chops for dinner, and I would hate to keep her waiting."

"Give her our best, and we hope she'll be out and about soon," Susan instructed.

"I will," he assured her, placing his half empty cup down and rose from his seat. Facing Charles, he gave him a respectful nod. "Until next time, sir." And once again, feeling oddly satisfied, Erik left.

* * *

 **I think Erik's getting the hang of talking to his father-in-law! And he wasn't even scared off by the fact that his blood pressure rose and fell as they chatted.**

 **Christine texted Erik! Oh, he was so happy.**

 **So, pork chops are now one of his favorites? ha ha.**

 **Looks like she's all signed up for school...now she just has to get better before Monday. I think she can do it!**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest C:** Yes, let's hope Erik takes those words to heart. But knowing him, they went right over his head. *sigh* ha ha. Thanks.

 **Kristin:** Nope, Erik does not like to be spied on...since that's HIS gig! ha ha. But Amir don't care. Thanks.

 **Guest:** Flashback is all cued up...but what are we flashing back to? When I write for Erik and Amir...I just let my fingers do the typing and out it comes. They are just so fun to write for when they talk to each other. ha ha. I'm sure, given the opportunity, Christine will get her two cents worth in. And they would both probably deserve it. ha ha. Thanks.


	21. Chapter 21

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 **First of all, I am way behind on my responses...I have been spending the last few days working extra hard on getting some important chapters written and fixed to perfection...at least I hope they are. ha ha. So if I have not responded to you yet...wait for it...I'll be playing catch up on answering reviews this weekend.**

 **I promise.**

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 **High-five to all those who spotted my story, Siren of the Sea, making a guest appearance! I just couldn't help myself. ha ha. If you ever see a reference to another one of my stories, make a mention of it in a review, and you can win a snippet card!**

 **.**

 **Now...on with the show!**

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 **.**

 **Chapter 21**

 **~X~**

* * *

The evening had indeed gone well, with Erik and Christine sharing their meal in the dining room as they ate their pork chops amid friendly conversation. His wife was eager for any and all news about her father, and Erik did his best to offer her as much information as he could without revealing exactly what he had talked about. That was to be kept private between him and Charles for the foreseeable future.

After dinner they had taken their places on the sofa once more to watch a movie. And while Christine had insisted that it was his turn to pick the title, Erik made sure he chose one he knew would interest her. When the credits finally rolled up the screen, and his lovely little wife attempted to suppress a yawn, he had escorted her up to bed, tucking her in gently before rounding to his side and slipping in beside her. All in all, it was what Erik would call a very pleasant and productive day. He drifted off to sleep, fervently hoping that there would be many more days such as these to come.

.

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Unfortunately the following day turned out to be decidedly different. While Christine seemed to have awakened with a renewed sense of vigor, Erik was battling a headache from the moment he opened his eyes. After showering and getting dressed, he only wished to get to work and lock himself away in his office, eager to be alone so he could remove his blasted mask.

Claiming that he had a lot of work to attend to, he chose to skip breakfast and headed directly to the garage, deciding to drive himself, instead of waiting for Gerald to bring the limo around. Erik was almost out the door when he heard a quiet voice from behind him.

"Have a nice day, Erik," Christine offered, appearing somewhat confused by his out of character sullenness and rush to leave.

Erik stopped and released a sigh of regret. He had been so wrapped up in his own troubles that he had completely ignored Christine, not even taking the time to make her breakfast like he normally did.

This would simply not do!

"Forgive me, my dear," he begged, turning back to face her. "I have been quite rude all morning, and my behavior has been inexcusable. Would you like me to fix you something to eat? Some coffee perhaps?"

"Erik, you don't have to wait on me hand and foot. I'm feeling much better and it's obvious that you're in a hurry this morning," she pointed out.

"Yet, you are my wife, and it is my duty to see that you receive the utmost attention," he argued, willing to set his briefcase down right then and don an apron in order to prove his point.

"I can fix my own breakfast," she assured him with a smile, coming forward and reaching up to straighten the collar of his shirt, which was uncharacteristically askew. "You go to work and don't worry about me. Just…well, play nice with the other kids, and don't run with scissors."

Erik could not help but laugh at her odd request, finding her whimsical farewell and touch very appealing. Suddenly, even his headache and the painful burning of his skin were lessened by the knowledge that he had this heavenly creature to come home to. Perhaps today would not be such a terrible one after all.

.

.

Again, Erik was wrong.

Not only did the throbbing in his head increase, but so did his irritability. By noon he had reached his limits, and when Antoinette threw up her hands in defeat and stormed from his office, he knew he should probably just give up and go home. Yet, due to his irritated skin, Erik instead locked his office door, shut the blinds and removed his mask, leaning his head back against his chair as he shut his eyes.

He figured he must have fallen asleep at some point, yet the short rest had done little to improve his temperament or condition. In fact if anything, he felt worse. He had a light sheen of sweat from his forehead to his neck, his palms felt clammy and there was an annoying tickle in his throat. When Erik attempted to rise, all his muscles ached, making him feel like he had fought bare fisted with several brutal opponents – and sadly, he recalled what the was like from personal experience. What was wrong with him?

After sitting there for at least another half an hour, Erik finally decided that he needed to go home. Yet the thought of driving himself both dismayed and worried him. Just the idea of putting forth the effort required to maneuver a car seemed exhausting, not to mention dangerous and foolhardy. So, without bothering to consider the amount of ribbing he might receive from his Persian friend, Erik quickly phoned Amir, telling him that he needed to be picked up.

Oh, he felt miserable!

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.

Christine, who had begun to get cabin fever, decided it was time to get outside and take another short walk in the beautiful spring weather. She was just heading back towards the house when she thought she heard the sound of a car in the front driveway. Thinking that perhaps Erik had come home early, she turned towards the back patio doors and made her way inside.

She was quickly alerted to the fact that it was not just Erik alone, for she could hear him speaking with someone else as she made her way through the house.

"Here is fine!" she heard Erik grumble. "Just leave me alone and be gone!"

"So this is the thanks I get for driving your sorry hide all the way home? Being forced to listen to your constant criticism; telling me I was either going too fast or too slow, braking too quickly or not hard enough?" Amir barked back, apparently at the end of his patience with his masked employer. "How does Gerald even put up with you?"

"What's going on here?" Christine asked, stepping into the entertainment room to find Amir standing in front of the sofa with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. She could not see Erik, but she knew he had to be there somewhere, since she had heard his voice. "Where's Erik?"

Her question was answered by a hand being raised over the back of the sofa, alerting her to his current position. Quickly she came around to the front, only to find her usually strong and vertical husband lying prone on the couch, his eyes shut and a frown gracing his lips.

"He's sick and won't admit it," Amir informed her, in a none too sympathetic tone.

"I am not!" came his gruff reply.

"Erik?" she questioned, kneeling down beside him as she placed her hand against his lower jaw and neck. Sure enough, he was running a fever, not to mention sweating and shivering all at the same time. Looking back up at Amir, Christine asked, "How long has he been like this?"

"Like what…irritable, argumentative, cantankerous, and just plain bossy? For as long as I've had the misfortune of knowing him!" the Persian responded, glaring down at the man on the sofa. When Christine cleared her throat, Amir glanced over at her, and seeing the concerned look in her eyes, he quickly changed his tune. "Oh, you meant ill? Well, I'd say it's been manifesting itself all day, if his employees' appearance was any indication. I bet he's been biting their heads off for most of the morning and afternoon."

"I am not sick!" Erik interjected, daring to open one eye, but quickly shutting it as the glaring sun only aggravated his headache. "And if I did yell at anyone today, you can rest assured they deserved it!"

"Thankfully, it's Friday and they'll have the whole weekend to recover, hopefully forgetting what a tyrant they work for and be willing to come back on Monday," was Amir's less than kind reply. "And if I were you, I'd follow the strict rules you made Christine adhere to, and get yourself well over the next few days. Because, trust me, no one wants to be around you when you're this insufferable."

"Then why are _you_ still here?" Erik asked, suddenly breaking out into a series of coughs, each one causing a slight rattle in his upper chest. "Just go back to your cave and let me die in peace."

"No one is dying here!" Christine exclaimed, cutting in on the pointless argument.

" _He_ might, if he does not leave!" Erik countered, pointing his finger in Amir's general direction, not bothering to even open his eyes this time to deliver his threat.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm going! But only because I don't want to catch your cold," Amir told him. "Although with as many times as you sneezed on the way home, I'm going to have to disinfect my car!" He rolled his eyes and gave Christine a sympathetic look. "I wish you luck, for he's one stubborn and unbearable patient, I can attest to that! Call me if you need anything…like a tranquilizer gun!" And with one final glaring look towards the man on the couch, Amir exited the room. The sound of the front door opening and closing soon after telling Christine he had indeed left.

"Erik…do you feel strong enough to walk upstairs and get into bed?" she asked, praying that he would answer in the affirmative, since her only other recourse was to enlist Gerald's assistance.

At any other time, the idea of Christine inviting him up to their bedroom would have set Erik's mind and body aflame, but since it already felt like it was on fire, it had little effect.

"Of course I can," he mumbled, never one to admit defeat. "I am simply overly tired today. I am not ill, as that asinine Persian claims, and I can easily walk up a simple flight of stairs."

"Good," she nodded, accepting him at his word and not wishing to argue the fact.

Christine stood up and offered him her hand to assist in his rising, but Erik either ignored it, or simply did not notice, and used both his arms to push himself into a sitting position. There he stayed for a few moments before gathering enough strength to force himself to his feet. At first, Erik was feeling rather proud of himself over this, yet suddenly he began to sway. Before he could completely lose his balance, Christine grabbed his hand and steadied him by wrapping her arm around his waist. This was the most physical contact she had ever offered of her own free will, thus far, and even as incapacitated as he was, Erik took a few moments to enjoy the feeling.

"How about I help you just a little?" Christine offered, looking up at him hopefully. Apparently she was a bit skeptical about his claims of being able to do it all himself.

"Maybe a bit of assistance would not go amiss," he admitted, mostly unwilling to relinquish her touch, more than truly needing her help. Or so he told himself.

.

.

And so they did indeed make their way up the stairs, Erik leaning on Christine for support, and she doing her best to keep him from falling down. When they reached the room, he sat on the side of the bed with a groan, wanting nothing more than to just lie down and make the world stop spinning. He had never been ill before, at least not that he could recall. In pain, yes – injured, more times than he could count – but never sick! This was humiliating.

"Here, let me help you take off your shoes," he heard Christine offer, his eyes opening wide as he watched her kneel down in front of him and untie his patent leather shoes and slip them off. "I think it would be best if you got into your night clothes as well, it will make sleeping much more comfortable. Can you do it yourself…or…do you need help?"

Erik recalled that was the same question he had asked her when she was in this position. And while the wicked side of him wanted to tell her yes, that he did need her aid, he knew she had only offered out of the kindness of her heart – not from a true desire to do so.

"No…I will change in the washroom," he informed her, struggling to rise as he staggered into the other room and shut the door.

This time it was Christine who was left on the other side, waiting and wondering when he would emerge, all the while worried that she might suddenly hear a loud thump, indicating that he had fallen down or passed out. She gave a sigh of relief when he exited at last, dressed in his dark pajamas and cloth sleeping mask, looking even more tired than before. Apparently removing one's clothes requires a lot of effort, using up strength Erik did not have in abundance.

Taking him by the arm, Christine quickly steered him towards the bed, easing him down and forcing him to lie back as she pulled the covers over him.

"Would you like me to call Dr. Mills?" she asked, knowing that this was what he had done for her.

"God, no!" he groaned. "I can't afford another house call from that blood sucking vampire."

"What?" Christine asked. "I don't understand."

"Nothing…don't worry about it, and don't call him. In fact, don't call anyone. Just let me lie here…I will be better soon," he insisted, his voice sounding a bit gravelly as he spoke.

"I still have quite a bit of the medicine Dr. Mills gave me, would you be willing to take some?" Christine questioned. She knew that sharing prescription medication was not wise, but it was not like it was for a specific disease or malady…it was for a simple cold, so what could it hurt? "It'll make you feel better," she said in a tempting voice.

"Fine," Erik huffed, willing to try anything that might stop the pounding in his head. If this was how Christine had felt, he now had a new respect for his delicate wife. How had she survived?

She quickly returned with a little cup, filled to the top with the pretty pink liquid, and assisted Erik to rise so he could swallow it properly. Once he had, Christine set it aside and stood by the bed, looking worried.

"Would you like a drink? Some water, warm tea, or perhaps orange juice?" she offered. "With a fever like that, you're going to sweat out a lot of your fluids, so it would be wise to start replenishing them now."

"Whatever you suggest," he nodded, his eyes closed and barely awake, willing to do anything she said just as long as she would let him sleep. He was feeling very tired and fading fast.

"I'll be right back," she assured him, hurrying from the room to fetch him a glass of something.

.

.

As Christine filled a tray with several choices, including orange and apple juice, herbal tea, some butter, biscuits, and strawberry jam, she worried over Erik's condition. Had he caught the cold from her? Was all his attentiveness when she was sick now being rewarded by his falling ill himself? That was hardly fair.

"Well, if that's the case, and I'm to blame, then it's only right that I care for him like he did for me!" Christine told herself as she headed out of the kitchen. Just as she did, however, the door opened, almost causing her to spill the contents of the tray all over the floor.

"Christine!" Mrs. Murphy sputtered, reaching out to steady the girl as she regained her balance. "What is all this?"

"Erik has apparently caught my cold," she explained. "I have him tucked in bed and am taking him something to drink, and maybe to eat, if he gets hungry."

"Oh, dear!" she muttered. "Mr. Thorn is difficult enough when healthy, I can only imagine what he's like when under the weather."

"Well…I believe I'm about to find out," Christine chuckled, thinking back to how irritable her father would get when he was suffering from a cold or the flu. This thought suddenly caused a shiver of fear to run down her spine. The last time her father had become ill, it had turned into something so much more serious! Would Erik's ailment do the same thing? Christine knew it was highly unlikely…and yet, stranger things had happened. Instantly she felt the need to hurry back to Erik's side, to make sure that he was comfortable and had everything he needed to recover quickly. "Could you please whip up another pot of that delicious soup you made for me? I think the warm broth on his throat would do wonders, much more so than just biscuits and jam."

"Certainly. I'll get started on it right away," Mrs. Murphy nodded, taking off her coat and rolling up her sleeves. "You go tend to the boss, and I'll let you know when it's ready."

Thanking the kindly woman, Christine hurried back up the stairs, quietly slipping in the room to find Erik sound asleep. Setting the tray down on the nightstand, she undid the paper wrapping around the bendy-straw she had grabbed, and put it in the cup of warm tea.

"Erik," she whispered, not wishing to startle him. "Erik, I brought you something to drink. Could you please wake up long enough to drink it?"

He mumbled something unintelligible but did indeed raise his head a bit in response to her request. Slipping the straw between his lips he managed to suck down over half of it before falling back against the pillow and returning to his slumber. Christine knew that sleep was truly the best medicine, so she didn't bother him further. Instead, she found the book she had been reading herself while she had been convalescing, pulled her chair closer to the bed, and settled in for the long haul. She would be right here if Erik needed anything.

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Erik was not sure how much time had passed, but from the looks of things, night had fallen while he had slept. He could honestly say he felt a little better, his throat not as painful and his temperature a bit less. He had always had an uncanny ability to see well in the dark, yet for some reason his vision seemed blurry and it felt like he had a bucket of sand in each eye. Turning his head, an action that took a bit of effort, he was surprised to see Christine sitting in the chair beside his bed, her face buried in a book as she strained to read the words using the one small lamp beside the bed. Had she been there all this time?

"Christine?" he called, his voice cracking a little as he did. This small effort brought on a bout of coughing, causing the heavy feeling in his chest to rumble and sputter. Oh, he did _not_ like being sick!

"Erik, you're awake!" she stated, putting the book down and coming over to sit beside him on the bed. She placed her hand on his exposed neck and gave a little smile. "You appear to be cooler, your fever must have finally broken. I told you the medicine would help."

"Thirsty," he croaked, doing his best not to give in to another coughing fit he felt coming on.

Christine was quick with another glass of liquid, this time apple juice, once more courtesy of a bendy-straw. He sipped at it greedily, enjoying how it seemed to not only soothe his scratchy throat, but quieted the cough as well. Once that was done, he lay back down, somewhat exhausted by that meager effort.

"What time is it?" he asked, looking up at her questioningly.

"Almost ten," she replied. "Mrs. Murphy made you some soup before she went home. If you're feeling up to eating, I could heat some up for you. Do you think you could keep it down?"

"I believe so," he nodded, knowing that starving himself would do little to aid his recovery, even if the thought of food did not appeal to him at the moment.

"Wonderful!" This seemed to please Christine greatly, and she quickly headed out the door to fetch the soup.

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Left alone, Erik now had time to think and gather his wits. Being ill was not something he was used to, and it had him at odds. It was like his body was betraying him, though in retrospect, he had never truly been on good terms with his form…especially his face. Still, he would not be defeated by mere germs, and tossing back the covers, he struggled to his feet. After making his way to the restroom, he stripped off his mask and splashed cool water over his irritated skin. The sweat from his fever had only caused it to itch more, and the soothing liquid went a long way in offering relief. Once he was finished Erik removed a fresh sleeping mask from the drawer where he kept them, and secured it in place. Then after using the facilities, he headed back to the bed and crawled inside, giving a sigh of relief as the blankets warmed him back up.

As he sat there waiting for Christine's return, he contemplated the implications of finding her at his side when he woke. If she had indeed stayed there the whole time, did that mean she cared about his welfare…even just a little? The idea made him smile, a warmth spreading over his chest that had nothing to do with his earlier fever. Perhaps she _did_ worry over his health, possibly even concerned for his well-being? Or maybe she had only stayed to repay him for how he had done the same for her. Either way…Erik was not complaining!

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.

"Here you go," Christine announced as she made her way through the door, the bed tray in her hands. "Warm chicken-noodle soup, courtesy of Mrs. Murphy. Guaranteed to fix you right up."

Erik struggled to sit up, leaning against the headboard as she placed the food in front of him. It looked good, smelled even better, yet his stomach was not as eager to receive it. Still, it was important that he try, and if Christine had taken the time to warm it up, he was not about to turn it away. Slowly, he began to eat, placing many spoonfuls to his lips, even if they were only half full. All the while Christine sat there and watched him, almost as if his actions were somehow entertaining. He wondered if he had appeared as interested in her while she had recovered.

"I'm sorry if you caught this from me," she spoke at last. "If so, it's a crummy reward for all you did to help me get better."

"I do not regret my actions, even if it was the cause of my falling ill," he assured her, finally pushing the rest of the soup away, unable to eat another bite.

Apparently he had made enough of a dent that Christine was satisfied, and she removed the tray and set it over by the door. Returning to her chair she looked at the clock, and then reached for the medicine bottle by the bed.

"It's time for another dose," she announced, filling the little cup and handing it to him with an encouraging smile. Once he finished it, Christine replaced the cap and retrieved a small jar that had been sitting beside it. "If you're willing, and the smell doesn't bother you too much, I think a healthy dose of this rubbed on your chest will help break up that congestion so you can breathe better."

"Mentholatum?" Erik asked, reading the label on the jar questioningly. He had heard of the substance, yet since he never had to deal with sickness before this, he had very little experience with all the different kinds of remedies. "Why? Does it smell foul?"

"Not foul…just strong," Christine explained, trying her best to describe the odor. While it didn't bother her, she knew that some found it repugnant, and she wondered if Erik might as well. Unscrewing the lid she offered it up for him to smell, and while he did jerk back a bit, at least he didn't curl his lips or turn away. "It'll not only help your chest, but the vapors will clear your sinuses as well. You will honestly sleep better if you use it. My father swore by it, not letting either of us go to bed sick without using some."

"What do I need to do?" he asked, still appearing a bit skeptical.

"You just rub it on your throat and upper chest, and then let it do its thing," she explained. Yet, just when he reached out to take hold of the little jar, Christine pulled it back, a frown forming on her face. "However…" she now sounded hesitant and a bit nervous, "if you get it on your hands, you'll have to wash with soap afterwards, otherwise you might rub your eye later and that'll really sting. Do you feel strong enough to get up and do that?"

Erik was about to assure her that he was indeed mobile enough to make it to the restroom to wash the product off once he was done, but her next words caused his own to die on his lips.

"Because if you're not…I suppose that I could…well, you know, do it for you," she offered, a lovely shade of pink staining her cheeks as she spoke.

Well now, suddenly _this_ remedy was looking more and more appealing. Erik no longer cared whether it had any valid medicinal properties, the application alone was enough of an enticement to allow it to be administered!

"Perhaps it might be best if _you_ applied it," he nodded, doing his utmost to sound weak…and not at all excited. "I doubt I would be able to make it there and back so as to remove any of the residue left behind. But only if you truly feel that it would be of benefit to me, I do not wish for you to put yourself out or feel uncomfortable."

"No…I believe it would help you," she insisted, still looking embarrassed, yet willing to forge on for the sake of his health. "You…you'll need to open your shirt just a bit. It would not do to get it all over your night clothes."

Reaching up, Erik quickly undid the first two buttons and pulled the collar back, exposing his chest to his still blushing wife. He had been so distracted by the prospect of her touching him, even if it was only to apply medication, that Erik had completely forgotten what lay beneath, and what he was now revealing to her eyes. At least until he heard her gasp, then he instantly recalled the large, nasty scar running across his breastbone, from one side to the other.

"Erik…what on earth happened?" she asked, her tiny hand reaching out as she gently touched the raised skin with her fingertips.

 _Damn!_ Erik thought to himself, _this was not the time or place for that story!_

* * *

 **ooooooohh, is there a story to tell? How did you get that scar Erik...how? How? HOW?**

 **Well, for those of you who wanted to see Erik catch a cold (because he said he wouldn't) you got your wish. ha ha. And apparently he is NOT a fun sick person. Though, to be honest, until that scar issue came up, he seemed to be enjoying parts of it.**

 **Amir...you and Erik sure have a strange friendship. ha ha. But you crack us up.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest:** I've kind of given up calling the Wednesday chapter a bonus or an extra by now. ha ha. And I do all the writing myself, but I do have several lovely people who help me edit and fix my typos and spelling mistakes. I have two Beta readers here on line who offer suggestions and catch mistakes, one friend who makes me print every chapter up on PAPER, so she can circle things with her pretty red pen. I also e-mail the chapters to my mother and she texts me back her corrections, and then my husband reads it as my final checker. So...if you find a boo boo...I should give you a prize. ha ha. But things still manage to slip through from time to time. Thanks!

 **Lex888:** Thanks for noticing Siren of the Sea being mentioned. I'm tickled it's your favorite. I mean, how can you go wrong with Erik as a pirate? Thanks.

 **Guest C:** I know, RIGHT? I'm sure Charles found it very stimulating. ha ha. And no...no one would have noticed ANY similarities...since this is fiction, and I won't let that happen. ha ha. Erik is finding that unburdening himself is easier than he though...granted he is telling a man who can't say a word back to him or pass judgement...yet! And I really can't see Erik on a couch telling someone all about his mother. ha ha. Christine's text really made his day! Thanks.

 **Kristin:** Yep, Erik really wants Charles to like him...not that it would make any difference, he would still get Christine, but it would make family vacations a lot more comfortable. ha ha. I had been asked, and thought about writing some from Charles' point of view, but right now with Erik confessing things that YOU should not know just yet, and certainly not Christine, it would be best if his thoughts stayed his own until much later in the story. Sorry. But undoubtedly you will learn some of what he has been thinking thus far...later. Thanks.


	22. Chapter 22

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 **Happy Monday!**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 22**

 **~X~**

* * *

Christine had seen his scar! Something Erik had not considered when she had so innocently offered to apply that medical rub to his chest. Yet, he was not prepared for her to ask how he got it, and neither was he in any mood to relate _that_ sordid tale.

"Nothing happened," he grumbled, quickly pulling his shirt closed, removing the hideous sight from her eyes, and hands as well. "It does not matter." He looked away, not liking how she was now staring at him, as if he were someone to be pitied.

"Of course it matters!" she insisted. "Erik, a scar that long and that deep must have been very painful, and potentially lethal…how did you get it?" When he still refused to look at her, or to answer her question, she tried a new tactic. Pulling up her sleeve, she showed him a small mark on her upper arm. "I got this when I fell against an oil filled heater at a friend's house when I was four." Next she rolled up her left pant leg and showed him a thick scar on the inside of her knee. "This one came from climbing over a fence at my great-aunt's farm when I was twelve, the board broke and I was gouged by a nail, slicing into me as I went down. Bled like crazy!" And lastly, she brought up her other leg and removed her sock, showing Erik a fresh scab just above her ankle bone. "And this little number I did last Sunday while shaving my legs, it too was a bleeder, let me tell you!" Once Christine had re-donned her sock, she gave him a pointed look. "Now you know all _my_ scars, and how I got them. Won't you tell me now how you came by that one?"

"Why, Christine?" he asked, sounding almost sad and disappointed by her request. "Why must you know?"

"Erik…remember when you told me about your childhood? How you grew up in an orphanage?" When he nodded slowly, she continued. "Telling me things like that, by opening up to me, it makes me feel…well, closer to you. I know so very little about you, even though we're married. A husband and wife are supposed to know a lot more about each other than simply name, rank, and serial number!"

Her last little flippant remark caused the corners of Erik's mouth to turn up into a slight grin, but it disappeared just as quickly. Christine had a valid point, and he did desperately wish for them to be closer…yet he was still not willing to part with the knowledge she was seeking.

"Ask me something else," Erik quickly offered. "I do not wish to speak about… _this_. Not right now," he almost begged, gesturing towards his now covered chest. "Ask me another question, and I promise I will answer it."

Christine's eyes narrowed, unwilling to let go of her previous inquiry so easily. And yet, from the look in Erik's eyes, she could tell that this was indeed a very sore and painful subject. How would _she_ feel if he were to suddenly demand that she tell him a very personal and intimate detail of her life? Yes, Christine wanted to know more about him, but not if Erik didn't wish to divulge such things. That would not only be unfair, but unkind. They had made quite a bit of headway over the past week…why would she wish to hinder that, simply to know the story behind a scar? Granted it was a very _big_ scar, one she dearly wanted to know the truth about…but still, it was Erik's secret and he had a right to it. However, his offer to ask another question intrigued her greatly.

"Two questions," she bargained, crossing her arms over her chest and staring him down. "Promise me two questions, and I'll drop the subject."

"Very well…two," he agreed with a tired sigh.

"And you have to answer them both…honestly," she warned, wanting to outline the rules very clearly.

"Agreed." Erik was now beginning to sweat, and it had very little to do with the low grade fever he was still running. She could ask him anything, anything at all, and he was now honor-bound to respond.

Christine smiled then - but not one of the sweet, innocent ones Erik was used to - instead a sly and devious one that had his blood pressure rising. Lacing her fingers together, she placed them in her lap and stared at him expectantly.

"Question number one," she began slowly, keeping him locked in her gaze. "Will you promise to _eventually_ tell me how you got that scar? Not today, not tomorrow, but can you guarantee that you _will_ tell me at some point?"

Erik stared at her for a long moment, debating on how he should answer. _Truthfully_. He knew he had to be honest, but could he give her the answer she sought and know that he would keep his word? Again, that desire to share things with her, to grow closer as normal couples did, was ever present, needling him to give in. And it was not like she was asking him to confide such things now…but in the future. Erik felt his heart skip a beat at the thought, for by her request, she was insinuating that they would indeed _have_ a future together. One where, at a later time, Erik might actually feel comfortable enough to share that story from his past. A small part of him wanted to at that very moment in fact, yet fear held him back. Still, given time, and a measure of encouragement…perhaps.

"Yes," he answered at last. "I can promise to tell you…eventually." It still unnerved him to think of divulging any of his past secrets to her, yet the smile that graced her lips at his assurance was worth any unsettling effects.

"Question two," she continued, drawing out the words as if this one would perhaps be his undoing.

Erik held his breath, fearing the worst, yet knowing that no matter what, he would indeed speak the truth.

"What is Gerald's last name?" was her final inquiry. "His _real_ last name?"

Erik blinked. Then he blinked again, wondering if he had indeed heard her correctly. Was his little wife gifting him with a true reprieve? Christine could have asked him anything, the possibilities had been endless. From his deformed face to the many sins in his past, she could have forced the information from him with ease, and yet had chosen the most innocent of questions. Allowing him his privacy…and dignity. His Christine was indeed a marvel.

"Harrington," he answered, still a bit shocked. "Gerald Harrington."

"Excellent," she muttered, and by the sound of her voice, Erik could almost imagine her rubbing her hands together in glee over the information.

"However, this does not mean that he will now be given permission to address _you_ any differently. He will still be required to call you Mrs. Thorn," Erik interjected, recalling the original reason she had wanted to know.

"Fine," she said with a huff, but that did not lessen the smile of satisfaction that graced her lips. She had gleaned the fact she had wanted, and no amount of restrictions were going to take away her joy. "Still, when I use his last name the next time I see him, he'll know better than to mess with me!"

Erik could not help but laugh at her look of triumph, finding her completely irresistible. However the action triggered his cough and soon he was leaning forward struggling for air as his chest rumbled with each labored breath.

Christine quickly moved forward and patted him on the back a few times before reaching for a glass of juice, urging him to take a few sips to abate the attack. When he could at last lean back and take a few deep breaths, she replaced the glass on the nightstand and took hold of the jar of Mentholatum.

"Open your shirt," she instructed, the determination in her voice overriding any embarrassment or hesitation she had been experiencing before. Dipping her fingers into the jelly-like substance, Christine sat there, her hand poised and ready, waiting for him to comply.

Erik was still a bit uneasy, but the prospect of her touch once again superseded any resistance he might have given. Slowly he did as she asked, pulling on the lapels of his shirt until his chest was once more exposed, jagged scar and all. Yet the moment her delicate fingers made contact with his skin, feeling the gentle circular motions, he closed his eyes and reveled in it. The medicinal rub was a bit pungent, yet appeared to have a positive effect on his nasal passages. However, it was Christine's touch that was causing him the most relief. Granted, this was not the first time Erik had experienced the hands of a woman across his skin, yet this was the first time it had been done solely for _his_ benefit, with no expectations of reward. Christine was doing this because…well, to be honest, Erik had no idea _why_ she was doing it, but he was enjoying it nonetheless.

When the ointment was thoroughly massaged in, though far too soon for Erik's liking, Christine pulled back and began to wipe her fingers off on a tissue. She would need to wash them thoroughly, like she had said, but he was encouraged by the fact that she did not immediately rush off to do so.

Erik had completely enjoyed taking care of her when she had been ill, but nothing compared to the feeling of Christine now fussing over him. He had never had anyone show this much concern before, unless he counted the time Amir had helped doctor up his wounds…which he did not! Besides, not only was the Persian a miserable failure at showing compassion and empathy when dealing with the maimed or ill, he was also far less appealing to look at than the beautiful woman sitting beside him. So in his mind, Christine would remain the first… _and the best!_

"There, that'll help that cough a bit," she nodded. "If nothing else, it should break up the congestion in your chest, and allow you to breathe better."

"Thank you, Christine," he all but whispered, fearing that any words he spoke might break the happy spell that seemed to be over the room.

"You're more than welcome," she smiled back. "Now, I think it's time for you to lie back, shut your eyes, and get some sleep."

"It might be wise for you to take one of the guest rooms for the night," he offered, hating the idea of not having her warm body next to him, yet fearing for her safety should she continue to remain in close proximity of his obvious cold.

For a moment, Christine paused, apparently thinking over his offer carefully, but to his infinite pleasure, she at last shook her head in disagreement.

"Nonsense," she argued. "It's more than obvious you caught your cold from me, so it's highly unlikely that I would fall victim to it twice. Besides, what if you need something in the night? No, I'll stay right here, end of discussion."

Erik could not help but smile at her determination, silently overjoyed by her response. He had become accustomed to having her sleeping next to him, enjoying her soft breathing that let him know he was no longer alone. It was surprising how quickly he had adjusted to this new sleeping arrangement, originally thinking that he might be bothered by a second body in the bed. Yet now, Erik could not imagine her anywhere else.

"Again, I thank you for your thoughtfulness," he said, never taking his eyes off her beautiful face.

"You did no less for me," Christine nodded, rising to her feet and leaning over to remove a few of the pillows behind Erik's head, allowing him to lie back down with ease. "Now, you try and rest, while I get ready for bed myself."

Erik nodded, shutting his eyes as directed, but his ears were keenly attuned to her every movement. His lungs actually did feel better, a warmth spreading over his chest as each breath was a little less labored. The soup had been helpful as well, offering his germ ravaged body the nourishment it needed to fight off this inconvenient infection. Between the food, the medicine, and Christine's diligent care, Erik began to drift off to sleep, lulled by the sounds of movement in the room and the soft running water as she moved to the restroom.

It was nice knowing that he was not alone.

.

.

By the time Christine had finished her nightly routine and made her way back to the bed, Erik was sound asleep, looking much more relaxed than he had earlier that evening. She could still detect a slight rumble in his chest as he breathed, but it was considerably less than before, causing her to smile down at his prone figure.

Erik continued to be a mystery to her, and he was not at all what she had pictured when she had imagined what her future husband might be like. Still, they were married. Legally wed and bound together by law and sacred oaths. The fears and doubts she had a week ago were still there, yet now to a far less degree. They were making it work…well, at least Christine could acknowledge it wasn't a total disaster. Both of them had been trying, going out of their way to make the effort needed so that neither one was left miserable. She could only hope that things would continue on the same way, until…who knows, maybe they might find a measure of affection for each other. And as she looked down at the sleeping figure of her new husband, for the first time Christine could actually smile and know that she truly did _want_ to try.

.

.

"Well, you don't look dead," Amir stated as he pulled up a chair and seated himself at the foot of the bed, not daring to come any closer. Whether it was due to his fear of catching any germs, or just a wish to stay out of Erik's lethal reach, he wouldn't admit.

"Would you like me to remove my mask and prove otherwise?" Erik fired back. He knew Amir had meant nothing by the comment, but with him feeling ill, he found he had very little patience with the man.

"That is not what I meant and you know it," Amir huffed, now slightly offended by Erik's surly mood. "Still, I think you appear in better health than you did yesterday."

Erik's eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you pleased by this observation, or disappointed?" Erik asked, choosing to focus on the delicious meal he had just been served by his precious little nurse. Erik could not recall the last time he had eaten breakfast in bed, and the only thing that would have made it more pleasurable was if it were Christine sitting with him, and not that persnickety Persian. He took a sip of the soothing tea, appreciating how it calmed the tickle in his throat, for he refused to show any kind of weakness in front of Amir.

"Neither," he said with a shrug. "Just making an observation. After all the fuss and claims you made about being on death's door yesterday, I'm just surprised to see you looking so…well, so happy."

"And why shouldn't I be happy?" Erik asked, a small smirk gracing his lips. "I am rich, powerful, and I have a wife who is not only exceptionally beautiful, but has a heart of gold to match. Do you know that she was kind enough to rub medicine on my chest last night, just so that I might breathe better?"

"Did she now?" Amir asked, raising an eyebrow in genuine surprise. "No wonder you're looking so pleased with yourself today. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were faking this illness in order to garnish more attention from the indomitable Mrs. Thorn."

"I will not deny there are benefits to all this, but no, I would much rather be in good health and back to my regular routine," Erik admitted, taking another bite of the warm cinnamon and apple oatmeal she had kindly made to soothe not only his hunger, but his raw throat. "I still do not understand how I managed to come down with a cold, especially when I have never contracted such a distasteful thing before."

"Isn't it obvious?" Amir asked, somewhat amused by his friend's continued ignorance on how germs worked. "You moved into a new house, you bought new furniture, and you are cohabitating with another person…one who, I might add, recently had a cold of her own. And while you might have been able to fight off infections in the past, especially with the way you avoid people in general, there's no way you could protect yourself from this much personal contact. It was inevitable that you'd get something. Remember how sick I got that time I moved in with my girlfriend?"

"Which one?" Erik asked, trying to recall all of the women who had paraded in and out of the Persian's life… _and bed._ "And which time?"

"The time I moved in with…with…" Suddenly Amir found he could not for the life of him recall the woman's name either, causing him to become a bit flustered as he continued. "You know, that psycho chick! What's-her-name!"

"Ah, yes, how could I forget?" Erik teased, rolling his eyes.

"Anyway," he huffed, ignoring his obvious sarcasm, "I'd never been more ill than right after we began to share an apartment. I had effectively moved into a new environment with new germs and bacteria I hadn't built up an immunity to." Amir then got a thoughtful look on his face. "Though, in retrospect, she might have been poisoning me."

"I would have," Erik chuckled.

"Oh, shut up!" Amir demanded. "The point is, since you were far too stubborn to keep your distance when Christine came down with _her_ ailment, there was no avoiding the possibility of _you_ catching it as well."

"I fully understood the risks of staying with her while she convalesced," Erik admitted, even if deep down he had never suspected that he might have caught anything. "And I would chance them again, a million times over, just for the opportunity to be there when she needed me."

"Yes, I suppose you would," Amir laughed, crossing one leg over the other as he picked at a stray bit of lint off his black trousers. "And I don't see you complaining about how she appears to be reciprocating the actions. How does it feel to be waited on hand and foot?"

Erik would have been more than happy to extol the virtues of such things, but Christine chose that moment to return, knocking at the door and peeking in before fully entering.

"Are you keeping a close eye on my patient for me?" she teased, noting Amir's somewhat distant position at the end of the bed.

"As close as I dare," he laughed. "I've heard that animals are unpredictable when injured or ill, and I'd sorely hate to get my head bit off."

"The safest way to avoid _that_ is by removing yourself from my sight completely," Erik offered, still not up to dealing with his friend's snide remarks.

"You're just fortunate it's the weekend, and no one really wants you anywhere near work," Amir told him, rising to his feet. "That gives you two days to get better, and I'll take this as a perfect opportunity to relax as well. With both of you staying home, I don't have to play watchdog, and can catch up on a few of the football games I have saved on my DVR. You'd be amazed how much time it takes out of my busy schedule keeping track of you both."

"You can't blame me for that," Christine huffed, crossing her arms and giving Amir a pointed look. "I'd be just fine if you took a permanent vacation from following me around."

" _That_ will not be happening," Erik quickly interjected, before Christine could get any silly ideas on the subject. "I already explained the need for having Amir do so. You need protection, whether you agree with me or not."

"It's just too bad we all can't be protected from the common cold," Christine laughed, obviously not as upset over Amir's surveillance as she had originally seemed. That was good, since Erik did not feel like fighting her on this a second time. In his weakened condition, she might just have won.

"I assure you, there is nothing _common_ about this," Erik huffed, rubbing his chest in an attempt to keep his cough at bay.

"Are you feeling congested again?" Christine inquired, coming around the bed as she laid her hand against his neck, checking for a fever. "You don't feel hot, but I'm willing to bet you could use another dose of medication, and some more Mentholatum on your chest."

"Well, I'll take _that_ as my cue and leave," Amir laughed, seeing Erik's eyes light up with anticipation of another tantalizing treatment. "Do try not to overstimulate him, Christine. Despite his surly attitude, we actually do want him to get better and back to his normal self."

Erik released a warning growl, one that instantly turned into a labored cough, effectively distracting everyone's attention to what had just been said. Christine moved to help him sit up further, placing another pillow behind his back in hopes of easing his distress. Amir took a few more steps back, pulling up the collar on his jacket to cover his nose and mouth.

"Yep, I'm out of here," he announced, heading for the door. "Give me a buzz if you need anything, Christine. Otherwise, I'm officially off duty."

"Coward," she called over her shoulder as Erik managed to get his cough under control.

"Guilty as charged," Amir laughed, giving her a wink as he left the room.

Erik was only too happy to see him go.

* * *

 **Well, I think they got through that little rough patch well. Erik gave Christine 'something' and Christine let Erik keep his secrets about his scar...for now.**

 **And lookie there! Christine know knows Gerald's last name...what WILL she do with her information?**

 **So, Amir has had several girlfriends and even lived with some...crazy ones at that. We need to find him a nice girl to settle down with...Erik has, Amir should learn from his example. But try wooing her, Amir, don't blackmail her into marriage.**

 **Looks like Christine is still on nurse duty...Amir has washed his hands of the whole thing. ha ha.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest:** Oh yes, the idea that Christine was going to touch him sure made him forget he had something to hide under his shirt, right? The plot and character's dialog just comes out of my mind, but I do a lot of research on other things…like the cars, medical mumbo-jumbo, food, locations, etc. As for being smart…I plead the fifth on that. Ha ha. I am a part time receptionist, full time wife, and aspiring writer! Oh, I plan to! Thanks

 **Guest C:** I have such a fun time writing Erik and Amir's dialog. They are so much fun. You know they are best buds, right. Erik is a diva…he would give Carlotta a run for her money. Christine is the referee here, ha ha. Glad you think Amir is a crack up. You're welcome.

 **Kristin:** Yep, Poor Erik. If Christine will keep tending to him…he might never get better. Ha ha. That's funny that you expect a new problem…that or you know me too well. Ha ha. Amir is very good at giving as good as he gets…years of practice with Erik will do that. They are best friends, who won't admit it. Thanks.

 **Gummy:** No, she saw nothing under his mask, just under his shirt. You are far from annoying me…ask away! And of course she will see…eventually. There is no way Erik would ever believe Christine could truly love him if she has not seen what he hides…NOT that he will ever want to show her his face, but 'these things do happen' ha ha. Thanks for saying so!

 **Guest 83:** Well, then this will be your first! Ha ha. I too like reading finished stories, since I hate to wait, but since I am still writing this one, you will have to be patient. Glad you are enjoying it and yes, Charles will have quite a bit to say about all he is seeing and hearing! Thanks.


	23. Chapter 23

.

 **Here is your Wednesday chapter!**

 **Let's see how Christine's first day of school is...and if Erik is feeling better.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 23**

 **~X~**

* * *

Christine managed to keep Erik in bed for the rest of the day, entertaining him with a game of cards, reading books, and even a movie they watched together on his tablet. The following morning, he was feeling well enough to get out of bed and join her in the kitchen for breakfast, followed by another leisurely day of relaxing. And even though Erik felt his body had indeed betrayed him by allowing the cold virus to infiltrate his cells, he did have to credit his impressive recuperative powers for not causing it to linger.

By evening, Erik was even feeling well enough to insist that they have a music lesson, knowing that the following morning Christine would be starting her classes at Juilliard. After not having sung for almost a week, Erik had been a little worried about her tone and stamina, yet once again, she thoroughly impressed him.

"I have no doubt that you are ready for tomorrow, Christine," Erik informed her, closing the lid on the piano. "Your recent bout of illness has apparently had no adverse effect. You will do fine."

"I'm still nervous," she admitted, sitting down and wringing her hands just a bit. "Though I do look forward to seeing Meg again."

"And according to Antoinette, she is just as eager to meet with you," Erik nodded.

"Are you sure you'll feel well enough to go to work tomorrow? Don't you think it might be best if you stayed home at least one more day?" Christine asked, still concerned about his slight cough.

"I am perfectly capable of resuming my normal routine," he assured her, though touched that she would ask. "I have a very busy week ahead of me, and I cannot afford to miss any more time nursing a cold. It baffles me how normal people deal with such things - they must find it highly inconvenient."

Christine could not help but chuckle to herself at Erik's sincere questioning, as well as his apparent insistence that he was _not_ normal. However, after living with him for a little over a week…she kind of had to agree with that assessment.

.

.

So it was, when Monday morning rolled around, both Erik and Christine left the house together, he in the Porsche, while she was driven to her first class by the ever reliable Gerald. Christine chose not to inform him of her new found knowledge of his surname just yet, wishing to save it for just the right moment. At their parting, Erik wished Christine good luck, though he claimed she hardly needed it, while she in turn bid him to have a pleasant day. All in all it was a very normal sounding way to say goodbye…but to Erik, it was still extraordinary.

Juilliard was all Christine had hoped for and more! Her first class was amazing, her second one inspiring, and by the third she was practically floating on air. All the while she was making mental notes of things she wished to share with her father, as well as Erik that night at dinner. When lunchtime finally came, Meg sought her out, taking her by the hand and dragging her to a lovely park bench under a tree on the grounds. There were several other students milling around, sharing their noonday meal on the grass or on the stone steps, but no one bothered the two new friends.

"So…tell me everything!" Meg insisted, taking a bite of the healthy salad she had brought from home.

"Well, so far I've enjoyed everything about it!" Christine gushed, not sure where to begin. "The other students are very nice, and the professors are extremely knowledgeable, and I…"

"No, no, no! Not about school," the young ballerina laughed, stopping Christine in mid-sentence. "I mean about Erik Thorn! I've begged mother to tell me how you two met and about your whirlwind marriage, but she's rather tight lipped when it comes to her boss. So dish, girl! What's the 411?"

"The 411?" Christine asked, unfamiliar with that form of slang.

"The information…how did you meet, what did he do to get you to say yes?" she pestered. "Did he sweep you off your feet? Get down on one knee…what?"

Christine tried to reconcile all Meg's inquiries with what had truly happened. How could she tell her new friend that she had met her husband only a little over a month ago, and that their courtship had consisted of him stalking her, bribing her with the promise of aiding her father, and the signing of a binding contract. Not quite the fairy tale Meg was looking for. Not to mention, Christine had signed that nondisclosure clause, stating that she would keep certain things regarding their private lives just that…private. Still, she had to say something!

"Erik…well, I guess you could say that he swept me off my feet," she began, thinking it was a rather kind way of saying _bowled her over_. "We met at the restaurant I worked at, waiting tables. Some creep was coming on to me and Erik stepped in and stopped him dead in his tracks. He kept coming in after that, requesting my section, and listening to me sing," she continued, telling no lies, but leaving out so much. "Then one day…out of the blue, he proposed…and, well, I just _couldn't_ say no."

"Oh, that sounds so romantic," Meg said, giving a sigh and closing her eyes. "He is so your BAE!"

"My what?" Christine laughed, knowing that hanging out with Miss Giry was truly going to be an education.

"BAE…you know, your _Before All Else_?" she laughed. "Although, I have to say, I do find it a bit difficult to imagine Mr. Thorn as the starry-eyed type. I haven't seen much of him over the years, but each time I do, he seems so serious…stoic even. However, I'm sure he's not that way with you, right?"

"Perhaps in the beginning…when we first met," she mused, thinking about how he would hardly say two words to her, other than to place his order and thank her for his meal. Of course there had been the notes he left after her performances…the notes she promptly threw away! "But now I can honestly say that Erik is probably one of the most _impassioned_ men I've ever met." Christine could also label him as unpredictable, confusing, impulsive, and often unstable, but she would not be saying _that_ out loud. "He is also very talented and quite driven when it comes to his business. I just wish I understood more of what it is he does, for Phantom Industries is still a mystery to me."

"Well…if I were you, I wouldn't go looking at things too closely," Meg warned, lowering her voice a bit, causing Christine to become nervous. "I'm not saying that Mr. Thorn is all mobbed up or anything, but I _have_ heard a few things that lead me to believe that he and some of the more notable underworld are like this," she stated, crossing her first two fingers over each other to show the closeness. "But he's been very good to Mother over the years, so far be it from me to badmouth him. In fact, though I don't know the whole story, I get the feeling that my mother owes Mr. Thorn for more than just her job, and the way she remains so loyal to him, I often wonder if she is hiding something from me about her past."

"Hiding something…like what?" Christine asked, thinking back to what Antoinette had said about marriage and husbands that first day in the limo. Could she have been alluding to a possible bad experience that she had in her own marriage?

"I'm not sure…but I can guess it has something to do with my father," Meg whispered, acting as if she were afraid someone might be listening. "I mean, one day he was there, and the next he seemed to have vanished from our lives. I wasn't very old then, around nine or ten I guess…but mother would never say what happened to him. That was also about the same time that mother began working for Mr. Thorn, and our entire situation changed, going from living hand to mouth to a fine apartment and money to spare." When she saw Christine's eyes grow wide, she hurried to continue. "I'm not saying there was ever anything between them! Hells no! Just that something happened that neither one will ever talk about, and believe me, I've done my fair share of eavesdropping in hopes of learning the truth. So if you ever happen to overhear something about that…I'd love to be kept in the loop."

"I'll see what I can do," Christine promised, knowing that the chances of her ever learning _anything_ were slim to none, for everyone around her was so tight lipped about…well, everything!

Just then, Meg's phone beeped, causing the perky blond to snatch it up and read the text she had just been sent. Giving a gasp she dropped her fork back into the container with her half eaten salad.

"Holy buckets! I've gotta go!" she stated, jumping to her feet. "They just moved my practice time for the recital up by half an hour! I have to go warm up or I'll look like a newborn calf on stage! Thanks for lunch, we need to do it again…soon!" And off she ran, giving Christine an enthusiastic wave over her shoulder.

"Well…she's quite the whirlwind," Christine laughed to herself as she took another bite of the chicken wrap she had bought at the school's café. Now alone, she began to look around, watching the students walking past or lounging nearby as they too ate their lunch. Yet her eyebrows rose in surprise as she suddenly recognized someone sitting across the away, reading a newspaper and drinking what appeared to be a Starbuck's coffee. Gathering up her few items, she immediately headed over.

"Hello, Amir," she greeted as she came to stand in front of him. Oddly, he didn't lower his paper, nor did he make any attempt to answer. "I said, hello," Christine repeated, yet she got the same response…nothing. "Amir, I know it's you. Why the silent treatment?"

Finally, with a sigh of exasperation, the paper lowered and he gave her a pointed stare.

"I'm supposed to be protecting you, Christine," he stated, as if those few words explained his rude behavior. "I cannot properly do so if I'm currently engaged in a conversation with you, now can I?"

"Why not?" This confused her.

"I must be alert to what's going on around us, not distracted by you," he explained. "Besides, if we are seen talking, it will be more than obvious that we are acquainted, and I rely on anonymity in order to shadow you properly."

"So I can't sit down and eat the rest of my lunch with you?" she asked, a bit disappointed. "But…Meg was called back to class, and now I have no one to keep me company."

"Fine," Amir relented with a sigh of exasperation. "But sit on the bench behind me and don't look in my direction when we talk."

This still seemed rather foolish to Christine, but she complied, walking around to sit with her back to him on an identical wooden seat. She felt like a spy, meeting her contact for some clandestine exchange of information.

"Shall we use code names too, just to throw any baddies off our scent?" Christine asked, in a staged whisper out of the corner of her mouth. "I could be Little Red Riding Hood and you could be The Big Bad Wolf," she teased, quite pleased with herself over the joke.

Amir's only response was a snort of laughter, apparently choosing to ignore her ridiculous suggestion.

"So, how has your first day been going?" he asked, returning his eyes to his newspaper, one he was obviously not truly reading if he was keeping his attention on things around them as he said.

"Splendidly!" Christine said cheerfully, turning her head around to look in his direction.

"Eyes forward," Amir reminded strictly, causing her to resume their unnatural position with a huff.

"This is stupid," she muttered, unscrewing her water bottle and taking a drink.

"No, it is necessary," he corrected. "Now…you say things are going splendidly? How so?"

Stupid or not, Christine was simply too excited not to tell all, and soon she forgot that she was not allowed to look at her Persian companion and continued the conversation quite enthusiastically. Amir responded in all the appropriate places, and even asked a few more questions, proving that he was indeed listening and paying rapt attention. He even went so far as to remind her of the time when her hour was almost up.

"So, will you be here every day?" she asked, standing up and placing her garbage in the nearby trash can, being careful not to make eye contact with Amir in the process.

"Where you go, I go," he assured her. "Although, I'm not allowed inside the building without a student ID…security reasons you know. But I'm able to see both exits from here, so you can rest assured that you are well protected."

"I meant here on the bench…during lunch," she explained. "I doubt that Meg's schedule and mine will always coincide, and I rather like the idea of having a lunch buddy."

"A lunch buddy?" Amir repeated with an amused chuckle. "I have been called many things by many women…but never that."

"Then I'd say it is about time," she insisted. "Now, see that you don't scare anyone with that serious glower of yours…and be nice to the squirrels."

"Squirrels?" Amir asked, lowering his paper as he looked around for any such rodents, but ended up just shaking his head as she walked away, laughing to herself.

.

.

The rest of her day flew by, and soon Christine was sitting in the back of the limo on her way to Leathwood, anxious to tell her father every last detail. Gerald had laughed at her when she had come bounding down the steps towards the car like an excited teen, telling her that the smile on her face could have lit up half of Manhattan. She found she could not argue with his assessment, and the poor man was treated to quite an earful all the way to the care facility.

Her father too had been subject to her ramblings, as she practically gave him a minute by minute summation of her day. Her classes had been a joy, and her teachers very complimentary, making everything perfect. Thankfully, her final class let out at three, giving her plenty of time to visit with her father before Erik would be arriving home at five. Christine truly hoped that the glow of excitement wasn't just from it being the first day, and that these feelings would grow more and more as time went on.

Yet, even as fun as it had been, Christine had to admit that none of her professors seemed half as knowledgeable as Erik, when it came to music. And while she enjoyed working in a group setting, being around others in her chosen field, she knew that having Erik coach her in the evenings would more than ensure that she would quickly catch up with the rest of the class.

And that is exactly what she told Erik that evening during dinner.

"Everyone has already been practicing for months, in preparation for a small recital coming up in a few weeks, leaving me feeling a bit behind," she lamented as they savored the delicious dessert Mrs. Murphy had served. "Since there's not time for me to put something together myself, I've been kindly invited to join another group in their skit. It involves mostly singing, but there are a few choreographed steps I'll have to learn so that I don't embarrass myself too much."

"I will offer any assistance I can with the musical aspect…however, you are quite on your own when it comes to dance steps," Erik warned her, giving her a playful wink of his eyes as he sipped his glass of wine. "I would suggest you ask your new friend Meg to help in that department."

"What?" Christine said in mock surprise, placing her hand over her heart. "Are you saying that there's something that the amazing Mr. Thorn is not an expert at? That you can't dance?"

"I most certainly _can_ dance," he assured her smugly, "Most proficiently, in fact. However, I do draw the line at performing any moves that would make me look foolish. Thus tap, jazz, and most assuredly all modern forms, are strictly out of the question."

"More of a square dance kind of guy, are you…or perhaps clogging?" she teased, enjoying the lightheartedness of their conversation. However, when Erik reached forward and captured her hand, bringing it up to his lips as he brushed them over the back of her knuckles, she began to feel that the joke was over.

"On the contrary, I greatly prefer the more seductive forms of dance…the waltz or the tango," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "To feel one's partner in your arms, the heat of the movements, the way her body molds to mine as she gracefully follows my lead in a rhythmic motion that passionately mimics the act of making love." He now had her completely captivated in his gaze, one she could not break free of…even if she wanted to. " _Those_ are the dances I prefer, Christine. Ones I would greatly enjoy sharing with you."

"I…" Christine began, most of her voice and all of her mental faculties suddenly stolen from her. "I…don't know how to tango."

"Of course not…for, as they say, it does take two," he whispered, giving her fingers a final lingering kiss before releasing them and getting to his feet. "Shall we retire to the music room, my dear? I would love to hear everything your professors gave you instruction on today…so that I can swiftly undo all the damage they caused."

Erik's smug tone and exasperated roll of his eyes caused Christine's merriment to return, unable to hold back the laughter at his scathing remark about her teachers. Yet, as she took his offered hand, and allowed him to lead her out of the dining room, she couldn't shake the feelings his warm lips had left in their wake. Feelings that both frightened… _and thrilled her._

.

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The rest of the week went on very much the same, with Christine attending school in the morning to early afternoon, with a quick visit to Leathwood, and then back home in time for when Erik arrived. They would share a meal, discuss the happenings of the day, and then either spend a few hours in the music room, or share a quiet evening watching television. Bedtime was beginning to feel almost natural, though every now and then, as they crawled beneath the covers, Erik would stare at her with those haunting eyes of his, a smoldering look that sent shivers down her spine. Only a great fool, or a complete innocent, would not understand what such a gaze meant, and Christine knew that the time he had allowed for them to become comfortable with each other was dwindling quickly.

They had just past their second week of marriage, as well as fast approaching their third, and far too soon she would be contractually obligated to fulfill her final part of the bargain…the consummation part _._ And while Christine was still nervous, terrified really, she found that beneath those feelings lay something else… _anticipation?_ Erik was her husband after all, and at the very least she had agreed to attempt to provide him with a child. Thus, at some point, she would need to perform her duty, and submit to his requests in the bedroom. She could only hope that in-between now and then, that spark of anticipation might grow into something more along the lines of acceptance, or possibly even eagerness. But for now Christine was content to simply turn off the lights, snuggle under the covers, and go to sleep. She could only hope that Erik was as well.

Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, Christine had shared her lunch hour with Amir, always finding him sitting on the same bench, in full view of the exits to Juilliard. Having learned the routine quickly, she would always sit with her back to him, eating her meal and speaking as if to herself. Amir responded back and asked occasional questions, but was never really chatty, until Friday that is, when Christine brought him a specialty coffee from the little café in the lobby. She was not sure what he might like, so she got him something with caramel syrup and lots of whipped cream, taking a chance that, like most men, Amir had a sweet tooth. Christine had snuck a glance over her left shoulder after discreetly placing it on the bench beside him, watching his lips turn up into a pleasant smile after his first sip of her offering.

"If this is your attempt at a bribe, meant to extract information from me, might I suggest you try adding a dash of rum next time," he chuckled, taking another swig of the steaming cup.

"What? And run the risk of intoxicating my bodyguard?" she laughed. "I think Erik would skin us both alive for that."

"Probably so," he nodded. "Though I could easily elude him, thus saving me from such a fate. You however…well, let's just say I would miss you terribly."

"Wow, not much for rescuing the damsels in distress, are you?" she chided, though it made her smile to know he would at least mourn her passing.

"With Erik in your corner, my services as a knight in shining armor would hardly be necessary," Amir mused, scanning the park with his watchful eyes, looking for any hint of danger. "In all the years I've known him, I've only seen one instance where Erik was ever truly in need of my help…and even then he only took it begrudgingly. You are quite safe from all harm, I assure you."

"How long _have_ you known Erik?" she asked, hoping her sweetened coffee would buy her an answer or two.

"Erik and I met a little over sixteen years ago," he revealed, his voice taking on a faraway tone, as if he were now lost in a distant memory.

"Where did you meet? Here in New York?" she pressed, hoping his openness would continue.

"No, I first encountered Erik in Iran, in a city called Ambar, between Tehran and the Caspian Sea," he answered.

"What were you doing there?" came her next question.

"I lived there," he muttered, his voice now turning cold. "It was my home."

"Oh…well, what was Erik doing in Iran when you met him?" she continued.

"Ahhh, now _that_ is a question you will have to ask _him_ about," Amir responded, her luck finally running out. "I might have the skills to elude Erik, but I would prefer to remain on his good side. It would be far healthier for me that way as well."

Christine released a long drawn out sigh, knowing that getting Erik to speak about his past was like pulling teeth, not fun and often painful. She'd hoped that Amir would fill in a few of the blanks for her, but it would appear that he was just as tight lipped as Antoinette. Oh, well, she supposed there'd be no harm in asking, she just wouldn't get her hopes up that he would provide an answer.

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As Christine headed out that day, passing by the admissions office, it occurred to her that she had not yet amended her marital status on her application forms. So taking an extra few minutes, she quickly filled out new paperwork stating her different name and checking the box marked married, instead of single. As she stared down at the page, she felt a small smile cross her lips, taking pleasure in her new title for the first time. _Mrs. Christine Thorn._ It did have a nice ring to it.

Handing it back to the lady behind the desk, Christine thanked her for her assistance and hurried out the door, not wishing to keep Gerald waiting too long.

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That night, after dinner, Christine worked up the courage to ask Erik the same question she had posed to Amir, obviously catching him off guard by this, for he had to clear his throat a few times as if he'd choked on his glass of wine.

"Pardon?" he asked, when he finished coughing.

"I…I was just wondering what you were doing in Iran…where you met Amir," she repeated, wondering if she had crossed some line with her inquiry.

"And what makes you think that I met Amir in Iran?" he redirected, watching her closely. When she did not answer, but instead looked down at her empty plate as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, he knew the answer. "I see my Persian friend has been running his mouth off again," he muttered, not sounding pleased at all.

"No…not really," she was quick to defend. "In fact when I asked him about it, he said that I'd have to speak with _you_ if I wanted any answers. And I do…want answers I mean, if you'd like to tell me."

Erik was quiet for a while, his fingers running up and down the stem of his wine glass as he stared at it in deep contemplation.

"I do not want you to think I enjoy keeping things from you, Christine," he began at last. "However, I simply do not feel that it is an appropriate topic for conversation at this point in our…relationship." He then gave a sigh of resignation. "Perhaps in the future. Maybe then I will tell you."

" _That's_ what you said about your scar as well," she reminded him. "Will every bit of your history be relegated to the unknown distant future for revealing?"

"No…not every bit," he assured her. "But it just so happens that those two tales are linked. Thus I cannot divulge one without the other…hence they _both_ must wait."

"Oh," was all Christine could think to say, now even more curious than ever. Yet she had promised not to push him to reveal the mystery of the jagged scar across his chest…so it would seem that the story of how Amir and Erik had met must be postponed as well. "I suppose," Christine said at last, "that at least this way, we'll never run out of new things to talk about." She did her best to keep her tone light, hoping that this might relieve some of the tension that seemed to have settled upon the room. "I mean with the way you apparently intend to drag things out, there will always be new and exciting things for me to learn about you, right?"

"That is one way to look at it, Christine," Erik nodded. "And I do find it delightful how you can always find a silver lining in things."

"Well, my father always says we should search for the rainbow in any storm," she stated, doing her best to win back the smile Erik had lost when she began her previous questioning. "Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you. I stopped by the office on the way out of school this afternoon and changed my name on the enrollment papers. As of today, Mrs. Christine Thorn is officially attending Juilliard."

"You…you did?" Erik sounded stunned.

"Yes. You did want me to, didn't you?" she asked, wondering if she had done the wrong thing.

"Of course, yes!" he quickly assured her. "I just thought…well, that it would take you much longer to get around to it, or that I might have to remind you."

"Nope, I did it today," she announced proudly.

"Thank you, Christine," Erik told her, his tone unable to hide how truly touched he was by her willing gesture. "It…it means a lot to me." _More than you could possibly realize_ , he thought to himself.

* * *

 **Well, a bit more progress...kind of. ha ha.**

 **Meg sure gave us more to think about, concerning her mother and Erik's history.**

 **And Christine sure seems to enjoy her new friend's enthusiasm.**

 **Amir is being silly...why can't she sit on the same bench and talk to him?**

 **Hmmmm, so more on Erik and Amir's backstory...**

 **And look, she changed her name at school. Erik is pleased.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Kristin:** Yah, I don't think Amir could handle the bubbly young Meg. So, no...they will not be a couple. ha ha. It will be a slow realization for Christine about Erik's TRUE feelings. I mean, come on, she knows he's hot for her body, but she wants love. Something he is more than willing to give...he's just too afraid to offer it yet. Gerald's reaction is coming soon, wait for it... Thanks.

 **Guest C:** Yes, she is a born caregiver I think. Christine has compassion. And Erik IS living the dream right now...his dream that finally came true when Christine said YES. Gerald is sunk now, right? And Christine knew she wouldn't get the answers she wanted, so she used it to her advantage and got the answers she COULD. ha ha. Erik doesn't know how good he has it with her...he could have got a Carlotta. ha ha. BUT he wouldn't have asked a Carlotta to be his wife, no matter how pretty she might have been. He saw something IN Christine. First day of school huh? Too bad I didn't post this chapter on Monday, since it was Christine's first day too! Thanks.

 **Guest:** In some ways Christine IS the boss. Since all she would have to do is bat her eyes and offer a kiss and Erik would be at her feet as her slave. Oh, if only she knew the power she held. My favorite musicals...Les Miz, The Scarlett Pimpernel, Joseph and his Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, Jane Eyre...that's all I can think of for now. Thanks.

 **Gummy:** I do love that scene, and even though I don't use it all...I did just write "this thing does not happen" a few chapters ago, ha ha. Look for it when it arrives. Erik briefly addressed his face and plastic surgery issues in chapter 11...but he and Christine will talk about it more later on as well. Needless to say, he has looked into it many times, but there is no help for this amount of damage. Poor Erik. Thanks!


	24. Chapter 24

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 **Guest S:** Why are Erik and Christine so cute? I have no idea, but we like them that way! Yes, use Erik's issues with taking a day off and learn from them...work first, reading second. ha ha. Erik is not the kind to 'steal kisses' from a sleeping lass. ha ha. Agreed, by giving her time, he avoided the hate that Christine would have felt for him. Be patient buddy. You will learn Gerald's last name soon...or more likely you already have. Yep, Erik CAN tell a joke, but in a very dry and serious manner. It is nice to come in on a story so far in so you don't have to wait, right? And don't worry, I won't stop and abandon it either. Yep, I have five more Erik stories written and ready to read...plus two Hobbit ones as well, if you like Fili the dwarf that is. ha ha. Subtle as a hand-grenade is what Erik is. ha ha. I think a therapist would run screaming into the night if Erik ever went to see one. ha ha. And the little talks with Charles are going well...right...sort of? You had an Erik and you let him get away? What were you thinking woman? Put out an APB! Call the FBI. Do whatever it takes to get him back, they are priceless when you need to write. and since YOU review with such care, I respond the same way! You should get an account. ha ha. Ahhh, so you are a returning fan of my work are you? Angel of Persia was my first story, then Siren of the Sea. I had such fun with Pirate Erik! Mystery Behind the Mask was a lot of fun too, but right now Seeing is Believing holds the slot for most reviewed story on the Phantom FF forum...so I might have to say that one's my favorite...I think...oh, I don't know. They are like my children, I can't play favorites. (but you can) ha ha. I'm glad you enjoyed the ones you have read so far, and thank you very much for saying such nice things about them. I have been saving up like four or five of your reviews and then trying to decide where you are in the story and responding to them in a mass message (like this one) so keep an eye out for them. I think I have left you messages in chapter 4, 17 and 20. (and now this one). THANKS!

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 **Let's see what the weekend brings for Erik and Christine!**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 24**

 **~X~**

* * *

Saturday morning found Erik having to go into the office once again, there apparently being something that needed his attention that could not wait until Monday. He did promise to spend the rest of the afternoon helping his wife with her part on the upcoming program however, something that she was greatly looking forward to. Still, this left Christine with a few hours to kill, and since Gerald seemed willing, she asked him to take her into town to do some shopping. The skit she'd been assigned with the other students was quickly approaching, and while Erik had offered to help her with the musical aspect, there was still a costume to think about, and at least _that_ she could do on her own.

Gerald maneuvered the streets like a pro, parking the limo not far from Christine's old apartment. Shutting off the engine, he turned around and looked at her through the open window that separated the front of the car from the back.

"Are you sure you want to do your shopping _here_?" he asked, eyeing the neighborhood skeptically. "I'm sure Mr. Thorn would rather you try some more high-end boutiques." He gestured out the window to the secondhand store she had directed him to.

"Oh, I'm sure Erik would, _if_ I were buying everyday clothes for me to wear," she laughed, trying to imagine justifying choosing hand-me-downs to Erik…although the look on his face would have been priceless. "But today I'm in search of a specific costume, and I believe _this_ store has the best selection for what I'm looking for."

"If you say so," Gerald nodded, still looking a bit uncertain. "Maybe I better go in with you, though. This looks like a really rough neighborhood."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, I used to live just around the corner!" she told him with a roll of her eyes, reaching for the door handle before Gerald had a chance to hop out and open it for her. "Besides, you know that Amir is somewhere close by, watching my every move anyway."

"Still…there are some really shady looking characters roaming round," he continued to insist.

"Then, it's probably best you remain in the car, _Mr. Harrington_ ," she told him, grinning wildly as his eyebrows rose in surprise at the use of his last name. "With as nervous as you appear, I would hate to make a delicate thing like you get out in this big, bad neighborhood."

Christine could not stifle a giggle at the look of displeasure he gave her, unsure if it was due to her jest, or the fact that she had wormed his last name from his employer. Either way, she felt quite tickled over her victory.

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Stepping out onto the street, a sudden wave of nostalgia came over her, the sights, smells, and sounds of her old stomping grounds bombarding her every sense. She had only been away for less than three weeks, and yet it seemed like years. Her life had changed so much, yet it surprised her that she didn't feel the aching desire to go back, like she thought she would. Yet in truth, why on earth would she? Other than the fact that she was married to, and living with, a man who was still unwilling to reveal most of his past…her life was genuinely better. And best of all…her father's chances had improved as well!

Figuring she better get to shopping before Gerald changed his mind and decided to tag along anyway, Christine hurried to the shop door, hearing the cute little bell jingle as she entered. She had shopped here many times in the past, doing her best to find good bargains for both herself and her father, after their income had been reduced. A good deal of the clothing had been rather immodest, and Christine had shied away from such things…but _this_ time, she headed right for them.

The skit she'd been asked to join was a bouncy number written by Andrew Bird, penned in the wake of America's entry into World War I, entitled 'How You Gonna Keep 'em Down on the Farm', and the costumes that were decided upon were somewhat…hillbilly-ish. Christine and the other two girls were expected to dress like pretty little farmer's daughters, while the two boys would be wearing soldier's uniforms. She was very grateful that they'd been willing to incorporate her into their little production, but after seeing the skimpy outfits that Barb and Tammi had already picked out, Christine knew she had nothing like _that_ in her closet.

So, there she was, holding up item after item, trying to decide if it looked hillbilly enough…and not what a streetwalker would wear. In the end Christine picked out two different outfits, one that matched the other girls quite nicely, while the second was a bit more conservative, just in case. Happy with her purchases, Christine headed out, only to find Gerald standing outside the limousine, eyeing each person who walked by, as if protecting his car. When he saw her smirking at him, he gave a little shrug of embarrassment, hurrying to open the door for her, asking her where she wanted to go next. And since Erik had said he wouldn't be back till after lunch, she asked if he would take her to the little farmer's market they had stopped at the previous week.

Her mind had been wandering back to her idea of planting some rose bushes and flower bulbs, and she recalled seeing a wide variety of such things when she visited there last. She was not disappointed this time either, for after taking her time to pick out just the right ones, Christine left the market with five lovely rosebushes and a paper sack full of flower bulbs. Some, she was told, would not bloom until next spring, but she made a point to pick out a few that would flower in late summer and into fall as well. Pleased with her outing, she told Gerald that he could take her home, not wanting to tarry too long and arrive after Erik.

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While Christine had been having a full and successful morning, Erik had been experiencing the exact opposite. Morte, and a few of his other new acquaintances, were requiring more attention that Erik felt like giving at that particular time, and his patience was wearing thin. Didn't they realize he had better things to do than to see to their ridiculous demands?

Thankfully Erik was able to get away at last, arriving home only half an hour after he had planned. His phone alerted him to an incoming e-mail just as he came through the door, and pulling it out of his pocket he saw that it was Amir's usual update, notifying him of what Christine had been up to in his absence. There was nothing upsetting with what he read, but he found her trip to the city to go clothes shopping rather odd. Had he not provided her with enough outfits to last her a good long time? An amused smile crossed his lips as he thought that perhaps he had created a monster, and his dear little wife was quickly taking a liking to her new financial status. _Well, good,_ he thought to himself, _Christine deserved to spoil herself._

"Erik, is that you?" came Christine's voice from the top of the stairs.

"Yes, Christine," he answered, not looking up as he swiped his finger across his phone to delete Amir's now irrelevant message. He heard her making her way down, and as he put his phone back in his pocket, he lifted his head to ask if she enjoyed her little shopping trip. But suddenly, Erik found he had forgotten how to breathe.

For there, coming off the final step, was a vision he had not at all expected. Christine was barefoot, with her long chocolate curls tied into two low pigtails just behind her ears, causing her to appear much younger than she was. However, the outfit she wore did little to hide the fact that she was all woman! His wife currently wore a low cut, red checkered top that only had three buttons done up and the ends tied in handkerchief style, causing several very wicked thoughts to immediately spring to his mind. And if that was not bad enough, the skimpy shorts she wore, cut and frayed at the bottom, exposed every inch of her luscious long legs to his eager eyes. Erik could not even imagine _why_ Christine would be dressed in such a provocative manner, though he was not about to complain either. While his mind had never drifted to fantasies about the rustic, yet alluring, farm-girl type before, Erik could certainly see the attraction now!

"So…what do you think?" she asked innocently, spinning around in a circle without any idea of what she was doing to the man before her. "I got it today for the skit at Juilliard. Do you like it?"

Erik could not think of a single appropriate response that did not contain a multitude of highly suggestive words – in fact, he couldn't think of anything to say at all. Instead, as if beyond his control, he began to walk towards her, his eyes easily conveying everything he was now feeling… _and more_.

Christine's hopeful smile faded as she watched her husband stalk towards her, his amber gaze making her very nervous. Instinctually, she began to back up, retreating as quickly as he was advancing, until her back came in contact with the wall behind her. She was unable to tell if Erik was, upset, angry or…well, something else entirely.

"Erik?" she questioned, feeling very unnerved by the fact that he was suddenly only a foot away and still closing fast. Finally he stopped, yet only because if he came any nearer he would be plastered against her, while she in turn was left with nowhere to go. Christine stood there, her breath now coming out in small gasps as he held her within his predatory stare, his eyes roaming over her now exposed and slightly pink skin, as if he meant to devour her. "Erik…?"

"Shhhh," he told her, supporting himself with his forearm against the wall beside her head as he leaned in, closing his eyes. "Do not say a word," he whispered into her ear, his lips so close that she could feel his warm breath against her skin.

His voice was almost hypnotic, and she found that she'd lost all desire to speak, closing her own eyes as she was swept away by the sound and feel of him so near. That funny little sensation in the pit of her stomach, which seemed to crop up at the most inopportune times, had returned with a vengeance, and Christine could not stop it from intensifying as she heard Erik's very deep and longing intake of breath. Her mind was left spinning as she fought to think of something to say, some way to remind him of his promise not to touch her in any way until the agreed upon time was up. What had he said…a month, maybe two?

Yet having him so close, taking in the dark and rich scent of his cologne and manly fragrance, was most definitely doing things to her resolve on that matter. She opened her eyes just in time to see his other hand rise, his fingers tracing the lines of her hair and her face, yet never once making contact. His hand then went lower, ghosting the outline of her now heaving chest, her waist, and at last came to rest near the outside of her hips, all the while never touching, yet following the path with his hungry eyes. When he seemed to have regained some of his control, though having left Christine quite witless, Erik cleared his throat and took a very small step backwards.

"This…" he began, gesturing with a somewhat shaking hand to the outfit that she had on, "…this is what you intend to wear for your program next week at Juilliard?"

"Y-y-yes," she stammered, still not able to catch her breath after the sensations he had just awoken inside of her. "I…I'm supposed to dress like a farm girl."

"Absolutely not!" he said firmly, pulling away with a stern look on his face. "You will _not_ be seen outside this house in such an outfit…in fact, I think it would be in your best interest never to wear such a thing at _any_ time. Especially not around me!"

"But…Erik, it's my costume," she protested, though she found she had very little gumption to back it up. "The other girls will be wearing something similar." Well, now she just sounded like a whiny teenager trying to convince her parents to let her do something.

"I do not give a damn what the _other girls_ are wearing," Erik growled, though for some reason, Christine didn't feel that it was done in anger. "They are not _my_ wife! You will not wear such a thing on stage, and if you have any sense of self-preservation…you will change out of it immediately! I insist that you find something else to wear for your performance." He then took a deep breath as he brought his hands up, running his fingers through his hair in an effort to regain his composure. "Now…if you will excuse me, I must go attend to something." And without another word he walked away, heading up the stairs at a very brisk pace, leaving Christine still leaning against the wall for support, her knees feeling like they might buckle at any moment.

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Christine was not sure what had just happened, but now that she was alone, her strength gave way and she slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, her legs stretched out in front of her. She looked down at her outfit, seeing it for the first time through the eyes of…well _, a man._ Christine had never been the vain type, but she had some understanding that she was at least pleasingly proportioned, and had to admit that the skimpy shorts and the low cut top truly did accentuate her figure rather nicely. And even though she knew it was probably wrong, and a bit dangerous, Christine couldn't help but feel a thrill run through her at how Erik had reacted at the sight.

Could this mean that her husband did indeed desire her in _that_ way…like a man did a woman, and not simply as an incubator for his child? What if Amir was been right, and this wasn't strictly the emotionless deal like Erik had originally indicated? If the look he had in his eyes just now, not to mention the ones she had caught him giving her over the past weeks, were any indication - Christine was pretty sure this might be the case. Could it be that she wasn't simply 'the least objectionable woman' Erik knew?

However, just because he found her appealing in _that_ way, did not automatically guarantee any feelings of affection. This was, above all else, a business proposition, and while she was getting used to the idea of being Mrs. Christine Thorn…that did not mean that love was ever meant to be a part of the arrangement. Still, she had to admit that she'd enjoyed the thrill that had raced through her body at his nearness…not to mention that one brief kiss at their wedding. But as she stood up and took a few shaking steps towards the staircase, she wondered if it was wise to dare and push Erik any further. He was a man of his word, or so he said, but what had her father once told her? That even the strongest of wills can be tested, and that they often fail. She still had a handful of weeks to go before she'd be held to her promise, and until then Christine wanted _Erik's_ will to remain strong. And if tossing one skimpy outfit into the garbage can was the price she had to pay…then so be it!

She had just decided to go upstairs and change, when the back door opened and closed, with Amir's familiar voice announcing his presence.

"Erik?" he called, walking through the sun-room and into the foyer, his attention distracted by something on his phone.

"He's upstairs," Christine responded, causing the Persian to stop and look in her direction, a response apparently on his lips. Yet no sound came out. He simply stared at her in shock. Realizing what he must be thinking, she was quick to explain. "It was supposed to be the costume I planned to wear for the skit I'm signed up for at Juilliard. But Erik threw a fit. Apparently he doesn't like it."

"Oh, I highly doubt that," Amir responded with a wide and knowing grin. "So, Erik came home to you…wearing _that_?"

"Yes," Christine nodded, wrapping her arms around her exposed midsection in embarrassment.

"And now he's upstairs?" he continued, his smile only growing larger.

"Yes," Christine once again confirmed. "Do…do you want me to tell him you're here?"

"No…I don't think it would be wise to disturb him at the moment," he chuckled, turning around and heading back out the way he had come in. "Let him know I'll text him later tonight. But, in the meantime, do tell him I said good luck."

"Good luck?" Christine called back questioningly. "With what?"

"His willpower!" And then the door closed behind him, drowning out the sounds of his laughter.

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As the icy cold water washed over him, Erik leaned his forehead against the shower wall and released a heavy sigh. Oh, he had almost abandoned all sense and gone back on his word. The things that skimpy little outfit had done to his mind and body were truly a sin. And the worst part was, Christine had been completely oblivious to what she was doing to him! Just the thought of her wearing such a thing in public nearly drove him insane. For no man, other than him, should ever be privileged to see that much of _his_ wife! An overwhelming surge of jealousy struck him once more, and he could feel his blood begin to heat up, even under the icy sting of the cold water pelting his skin. Christine was _his_ , and Erik would be damned if he let any other man ogle what belonged to him!

Shutting off the faucet he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, drying his hair and replacing his mask, not even bothering to look at his reflection in the mirror - for what good would it do him anyway. He then slipped into a fresh pair of pants and a shirt, only bothering to fasten one or two of the buttons, as he headed out the door. Yet what he encountered stopped him dead in his tracks. Standing there at the foot of the bed was Christine, only this time wearing a yellow and white polka-dot dress.

"Is…is _this_ better?" she asked, lacing her hands behind her back and appearing quite nervous about her question. "I picked it up as an alternative…but I could always go back tomorrow and find something else."

Erik stared at the dress, it was modest enough, he supposed, with very little cleavage showing at least. The hem of the skirt fell just above her knees, flaring out in a poufy fashion. And while it still seemed to excite his body, at least he did not think it would require him to gouge out the eyes of every man who might look upon her.

"Yes…yes, Christine," he nodded, swallowing hard before he could get any further words out. "This costume will be acceptable." He then cleared his throat and turned around, heading back into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

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Christine heard the shower begin again, and wondered why in the world Erik would feel the need to bathe a second time. But when she saw that there was no steam coming from under the bathroom door, her eyes grew wide and she covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. _Oh, my_ , she thought to herself, _perhaps this outfit was just as provocative as the last._ Still, Erik had said she could wear it, and wear it she would! Turning back towards her closet, intent on changing into some normal attire, she shook her head in wonder.

 _Men were strange._

 _._

 _._

True to his word, Erik spent the afternoon helping Christine with her piece, though at first things were a bit awkward between them, each sneaking glances when they thought the other wasn't looking. With her wearing a slight blush on her cheeks, while Erik just seemed determined to scowl. But at last the music took over, and they fell into a comfortable rhythm once again, with Erik watching as she demonstrated the choreography that would accompany the musical number. When he asked her why on earth they had chosen to mix in a dance number, she explained that often an artist needed to have experience in many fields, if they wished to stand out during an audition. Dance was often linked to music, and it would look good on her resume if she could list at least a familiarity with the subject.

"That is foolish," he stated, waving her off as he returned to the piano. "Your talent is in your voice and no one will care if you can even walk in a straight line once they hear you sing."

"But Erik, I have to participate in all the activities if I wish to pass the class," she argued. "And I kind of like the idea of performing…it could be fun."

"Very well, Christine," Erik sighed, seeing just how much it apparently meant to her. He knew that she relished the idea of interacting with her peers, especially those sharing the same interests as her, and as long as it made her happy, he was happy too. "Just do not forsake the training of your voice in favor of any extracurricular activities or showy dance numbers. We can't have you breaking a leg or something, now can we?"

"Isn't that what actors say just before a performer goes on…to break a leg?" she asked, all smiles now that Erik had finally seen things her way.

"That is a superstitious saying meant to ward off bad luck," he informed her. "And since you possess true talent, you have no need of luck. Besides, you have me around to make sure things run smoothly."

"So…would that make you my lucky rabbit's foot?" she teased, becoming more and more comfortable engaging in such frivolity with Erik.

"I think we should return to work now, Christine," he said with a roll of his eyes. "And when we finish up here, I think you should eat something…your blood sugar must be low, you are starting to sound a little silly."

"If you think I appear silly now, you should hear what I sound like talking to myself at lunch," she muttered to herself, moving to take her place next to the piano for another round of rehearsals.

"What was that?" Erik asked, instantly interested in her strange comment.

"With Amir," she told him, looking somewhat exasperated. "He makes me sit on the bench behind him, never allowing me to look directly at him when I speak, all the while claiming it's for _safety reasons_." As she said that last bit, Christine bent her first two fingers on both hands in the air, as if making quotes around the words. "Everyone who passes by must think I'm some crazy chick who talks to herself. I almost feel like bringing a bag of birdseed so I can at least be feeding the pigeons and appear to be talking to them."

 _"He makes you do what?"_ Erik was not sure if he was amused or enraged. On one hand, Amir did have a point, for the whole idea of him tailing her was to remain inconspicuous. And having the two of them sitting side by side while she ate lunch would surely reveal his protective presence. However, Erik was not certain he liked the idea of his little wife being made to look the fool. "And how long has this been going on?"

"All week," she answered, now wondering if she might have put her foot in it and gotten Amir in trouble.

"Hmmm," Erik hummed, considering his options. "I will speak with Amir and have him justify his reasons, and let you know what I decide. Although I would much prefer that you eat your lunch with Meg, or any of your other school friends, and leave your guard to do his job."

"I _do_ eat with Meg…when she's free," Christine argued. "It's just that our classes don't always match up, and schedules for rehearsals often get changed. I haven't had much time to make any other friends yet, and I hate eating alone." She knew it was childish, but she couldn't help sticking her lower lip out in a bit of a pout over the idea.

Erik stared at her for a moment, lost in sudden fantasies about what he would like to be doing to her lips at that moment, the adorable little pout of hers sending shivers through his body. Did Christine truly have no idea just how appealing she could be?

"Perhaps I will make a point to come share your noonday meal with you one day," he suggested, not wanting to give in just yet, but hating the idea of her being sad as well.

"You would?" she asked, sounding very surprised by his offer, yet equally delighted by the idea.

"When my schedule allows…yes," he nodded, liking the idea more and more himself. "Now, as I said, back to work. We can't have you unprepared for your first recital, now can we?"

"No sir!" she smiled, squaring her shoulders and adopting the perfect singing posture Erik always insisted upon.

* * *

 **Well...did it suddenly get a bit steamy in the Thorn household? And I'm not talking about Erik's shower, since it was ice cold. ha ha.**

 **Oh, if Christine only realized the power she holds in this relationship! ha ha.**

 **And look, Christine used Gerald's last name...now I would have saved using it for a more opportune moment, but hey, Christine is apparently not devious like I am. ha ha.**

 **So, Amir was acting on his own with that whole "you can't sit by me" thing. ha ha. I think he just wants to keep a professional distance with his charge... Erik can get a tad jealous from time to time. ha ha.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest C:** Yep, Christine had a wonderful time at Juilliard...it was her dream after all. And Erik made it all possible. And of course Christine will find out all of Erik's secrets...in time. Ha ha, yes, Amir is taking his job very seriously, but look at who he's working for! Would YOU want to let Erik down? I think Amir and Christine hire out as spies...give them a call if you need someone watched. As for what Erik was doing in Iran...that will be told...in time. ha ha. Erik likes the sexy dances, not the ones where he would need to gyrate around the dance floor. ha ha. Hey, I love "Those Canaan Days" song! Did you wear cowboy hats and everything? Glad you enjoyed the chapter.

 **Kristin:** Yep, Christine had a great week...and so did Erik. And Meg is fun, but when it comes to dance, she is just like her mom...SERIOUS. You will be seeing her quite a bit during the story. Had you heard the saying "holy buckets" before? I never know if something is more of a local saying or widely known. ha ha. I'm glad you like the level of Christine's like/stand-off-ishness. She is trying to make the best of it, but not just jumping into bed with him either. Well...they DO sleep together...but...well, you know what I meant. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Gummy:** Wow...a Carlotta fan, hu? I won't tell Erik you said that. ha ha. Ok, THAT made me laugh, Erik playing around with Photoshop and Amir teasing him about his photo...I bet if he just did a mirror image of his other side of his face, he could make himself look pretty good, yes? And I would not be opposed to Erik looking like Thor! Just with dark hair. You know, Tom Hiddleston wouldn't be a bad Erik either! Thanks.

 **Guest:** Meg is not exactly a Valley Girl...but close, ha ha. Well, thankfully Christine is not out to dominate the world, because with a husband like Erik behind her, she could probably do it. ha ha. And I would sooooo put that on my resume...think they would hire me on the spot? Thanks.

 **Emmy6:** Now THAT is a story-line I've never seen before, where Christine dumps Erik and goes for Amir/Nadir/The Persian. I try to make each version of him a bit different in each story, but lately I've been seeing him as a hot looking dude...so, hmmm, maybe one day someone will take that line of thinking and run with it. You perhaps? Yep, EVERYTHING will be revealed...in time. Thanks.

 **15clamspersip:** Ha ha, oh man, it took me like two minutes to figure out what your screen name meant, but then, like a bolt of lightning (which we have had here the past several nights) it hit me! That's how much the champagne cost per sip! (the clams part threw me). Very cute, I love it. Yes, Erik's story will be told, as well as how he and Amir became buddies. I just have to reveal it at the 'perfect time' because right now might be too soon for Christine to take. You know what...I think he IS getting a following. Soon there will be fan fiction about Amir/Nadir and Erik will be playing the comical sidekick. ha ha. And why do you think Amir is STILL working for Erik...because Starbucks coffees and Hungry Man TV dinners eat up all his money! Yes, Christine is oblivious to how much power she truly holds over Erik. Glad you like Meg. And she does need some girl talk...Christine is surrounded by all men (Erik, Amir, Gerald). Thanks!

 **Guest Anna:** I am sorry for your awful experience. I fully agree, that in real life, this would indeed be a bad situation, and I would never advocate a relationship like this. However, this is fiction, and Erik must have some character flaws that he will eventually overcome in the story. Hopefully, as you continue to read, you will see some positive character development in both Erik and Christine. However, if you find this story too uncomfortable to continue with, and you have to stop reading, I completely understand. Thank you for the time you've already put into it. Best wishes. FP33


	25. Chapter 25

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 **Public Service Announcement:**

This story is not a _'How to Find the Perfect Husband'_ instruction manual. We all know that Erik the Opera Ghost is a man with severe behavioral and social issues, ones that ONLY come off looking good on a deformed musical genius, who is also a fictional character that does not truly exist. (shhhh, don't tell Erik I said that, ha ha). We also know that given time, Erik will come to understand his actions are not healthy, and change...because that's what we expect in a POTO FanFiction story...right?

If Erik were a real man living today, and he tried to pull all this manipulation crap on Christine, I would strongly advise her to call the cops, slap him with a restraining order, and sue the pants off of him for violating HIPAA regulations by moving her father. Again, only Erik the Opera Ghost could get away with any of this, and only because he is fictional.

Disclaimer: The thoughts and ideas contained within this story were written strictly for entertainment purposes only. I do NOT approve of anyone being in a controlling or unhealthy relationship, nor is it my intent to paint any person, nationality, school, or organization, in an unfavorable light. I sincerely hope that no one is offended by my writing, that was never my intention.

 **We now return you to your regularly scheduled chapter.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 25**

 **~X~**

* * *

The following day was bright and sunny, pulling Christine outside and into the back yard, eager to plant her rose bushes and bulbs. Erik had been standing at the patio doors for quite a while, his hands behind his back as he watched her working in the dirt. He seemed very confused by all this, and Christine had to laugh when she would glance up to find him still there, watching her with a mystified look in his eyes. She would wave happily, and then go back to digging with the little spade and garden trowel she'd found.

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"So…how are you and Christine doing?" Amir asked in an amused sing-song tone, as he came up behind Erik and stood beside him, both watching her plant her rose bushes.

"Just fine," he replied, still a bit distracted. "But I have no idea why she insists on doing _that_ herself. I've never felt the need to plant anything in the ground before…well, nothing I ever expected to grow, that is," he added a bit flippantly. He then got a suspicious look in his eyes and turned to stare at Amir. "Wait…why do you ask? What do you know?"

"Oh, I know a lot of things," Amir chuckled. "Such as how enticing Christine looks in a pair of Daisy Dukes and a tied off checkered shirt."

"Are you saying you saw her picking out those clothes yesterday and did not warn me?" Erik growled, not liking the idea one little bit.

"Hell no!" the Persian stated firmly. "If I had seen what she had bought at that store, I would have been on the phone to you immediately…afraid you might have a heart attack at seeing her in them! No, I just happened to come by the house yesterday, right after you got home, only to find Christine wearing that rather skimpy outfit and you upstairs…shall we say, _otherwise occupied_." Here he gave Erik a wink and a wide grin.

"You have a filthy mind!" he growled, turning to look back out the window at his innocent little wife. "I took a cold shower…that is all! Contrary to popular belief, I am not an animal! I _do_ know how to control my body, and any urges I might be plagued with."

"Hey…don't go biting _my_ head off just because you're sexually frustrated," Amir stated, holding up his hands in defense. "I would suggest you go visit that lady friend of yours, but I'm quite certain _those_ trips have come to an end."

"Indeed they have," Erik said firmly. "I am a married man now, and I intend to remain faithfully committed to my wife."

"Good for you," Amir nodded. "I've grown rather fond of Christine, and it's good to know you would never disrespect her like that."

"Speaking of treating my wife with disrespect," Erik told him, turning to look in his direction again. "What is this I hear about you making her sit on a bench behind you and not allowing her eat her lunch with you?"

"I'm working!" Amir said in his defense. "Would you prefer I become distracted and lose focus?"

"Of course not, but neither do I care for my wife looking like some homeless woman talking to pigeons on her lunch break," Erik insisted. "I have offered to come share a meal with her some day when I can get away from the office. However, in the meantime, I think it would be acceptable for you to keep her company while she eats. And by that, I mean allowing her to sit beside you…not behind you!" His eyes then narrowed threateningly. "Just not _too_ close."

"Fine..." Amir grunted, rolling his eyes in irritation. "The Big Bad Wolf will allow Little Red Riding Hood to share her basket of goodies with him."

"The what…with who?" Now Erik was really confused. "WHAT GOODIES?" He barked out accusingly.

"Ask your wife," Amir snorted as he turned to leave, apparently now tired of their conversation. "She's the one who came up with those ridiculous code names."

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When all the rose bushes were planted, and Christine was just starting on the bulbs – having laid out the color pattern in what she hoped would be a very pleasing fashion when they came up – Erik at last joined her. As usual, he was wearing his pristine black dress pants and a white linen shirt, though the top two buttons were uncharacteristically undone, allowing her to see just the tip of the scar on his upper chest.

"Come to help?" she asked, knowing the answer before she spoke the words.

"You know, I employ gardeners to do such things as this," he told her, his hands stuffed deep in his pants pocket as he stared down at her.

"Yes, but I enjoy digging in the dirt," she insisted, not going to allow him to take away her fun. "Didn't you ever play in the mud and dirt as a child…just for the pleasure of it?"

The look on his face told her that no, he had not.

"I was far too busy trying to make sure I had enough food to eat, a roof over my head, and a few coins in my pocket," he informed her, his voice deadpan. "I did not have the time, nor the desire, to dig in the dirt."

Christine stopped what she was doing and looked up at him, her heart almost breaking as she tried to imagine the hell he must have gone through growing up. She knew so little of his past, but so far, what she _did_ know was not pleasant. Erik must have recognized the pity in her eyes and looked away uncomfortably.

"I did not say these things to garnish your sympathy," he stated. "That is simply how things were, and I will not sugarcoat the past. Though if it upsets you, I will not speak of such things further."

"Erik…I _want_ to know about your past," she told him. "And I don't expect you to paint a rosy picture for me simply because you don't think I can take it. I'd rather we have an open marriage."

"An _open_ _marriage_?" Erik asked, his eyebrow raising skeptically.

"Not open in _that_ way!" Christine countered, not wanting him to imagine she meant for them to have extra marital affairs. "I mean _open_ communication… _open_ to the idea of talking about our past. Not secretive."

"You know that I cannot promise to never keep secrets from you, Christine," Erik warned. "We already discussed this. Yet…I did agree that _one day_ I would tell you all I could."

"And when that time comes, I'll be ready to listen," she assured him, giving him a sympathetic smile before turning back to her work.

Erik continued to observe her silently, though she tried her best to ignore the uncomfortable sensation of being watched so closely. Her husband had a maddening way of making her feel like she was under a microscope a lot of the time, almost as if he were dissecting her every move, word, or action. When she was finally finished, patting the dirt down over the last bulb, she sat back on her heels with a sigh of satisfaction.

"There, all done," she announced, looking up at him with a wide grin. "Now, come fall, we should see a little bit of color. Yet I think the true rainbow will have to wait till next spring." She then turned her eyes back to the patch of earth with a slight frown. "That is, of course, if I did it right and didn't plant the poor little bulbs upside down or something. Still, I guess I stand a fifty-fifty chance of success."

"All this work, and your plants might not even come up?" Erik sounded aghast at the notion, suddenly turning his narrowed eyes towards the cultivated earth.

"Erik," Christine laughed, noting his accusing stare. "You can't intimidate plants, no matter how hard you try. They either will, or won't, come up…there's nothing you can do about it." She then rose to her feet, brushing off her jeans as she picked up her supplies and headed back towards the house, chuckling over her husband's odd behavior.

"I might not be able to intimidate plants," Erik muttered under his breath, still eyeing the ground dangerously. "But I sure as hell can influence the gardener!" He made a mental note to instruct the man to make certain he gave Christine's little flower bed his utmost attention and care, insuring that she would reap a plethora of color from each tiny bulb.

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Evening found the two of them in the entertainment room, Christine quietly reading a magazine while Erik worked on some of his never-ending paperwork. It had become a comfortable routine for the two of them, and even though it looked like her husband was oblivious to her presence, Christine knew better. It was times like these that she felt oddly comforted, his silent company making the room feel homier. As she turned the page of her magazine, an article caught her attention. _'Five ways to tell you are dating a psychopath'._ Well, this might prove interesting, she thought as she began to read down the list.

Point number one _… They tend to have a charm about them and are quite charismatic as well as intelligent._ Hmmm, well, that fit Erik to a tee, and yet the same could be said for a lot of people. Her father was a very charming man, as well as intelligent, and she was pretty certain he was mentally stable.

Point number two _…They are willing and able to draw people into outrageous schemes to get their needs met._ Now, this one she could not deny made Erik look bad. But did that mean that every businessman out there had a mental deficiency? Sure, he had got her to sign the contract, but she in turn got something out of it in the process…right?

Point number three and four were a bit more vague… _willing to break all kinds of rules, and not known to have any close friends or family members, only colleagues and associates._ Rule breaking was not something Christine had seen much of from Erik, but mostly since _he_ made all the rules. As for friends…did Amir count? Erik had said he never knew his family, so how could he have formed any close ties to people who had left him on his own at an orphanage?

Point number five caused her brows to furrow together, and she tried to decide if this was a sign, or simply the way he wished to present himself. The article said that _a psychopath was quick to anger and left one feeling frightened at times._ Christine peered over the top of her magazine and studied the man sitting at the desk, doing her best to analyze him objectively. Yes, Erik was intimidating…tall, strong, wore a mask, and often left you feeling uncertain about what he was thinking. Yet, in all the time she had known him, had he ever truly frightened her…to the point where she would fear for her safety? Granted, he had yelled, groused, ranted and raved, yet if she was being honest...so had she! Several times she had shouted at Erik in anger, yet he had never done anything threatening in retaliation, but instead apologized quite sincerely.

Going back to the article she continued to read on, it saying that such an illness was often passed down from parents to children, mostly coming through the bloodline of the mother. _Well, that was rather sexist,_ she thought with a wrinkle of her nose. However, this got her thinking about Erik's parentage, wondering if he knew anything more about them than he had told her previously. He had not seemed too upset when he mentioned it before, perhaps it was not one of the many topics he considered taboo – unlike his scar and how he met Amir. Taking the chance she cleared her throat, gaining Erik's attention as he looked over at her questioningly.

"Yes, Christine?" he said, his pen instantly stilling. "Do you require something?"

"I…I was just wondering," she began, licking her lips as she mustered up the courage to speak. "What do you know about your parents…your mother especially?"

Erik was silent for a moment, simply staring at her with that unreadable expression of his. Finally after what felt like an eternity he gave a heavy sigh and looked back down at his papers, as if distancing himself from the conversation just a bit.

"Not much," he answered quietly. "Growing up in the orphanage, they only said that she had died, thus leaving me a ward of the city. Later, when I had the means to do so, I conducted my own investigation, only to discover that she had been listed as Jane Doe. The hospital records said she came in off the street, already in labor, and died there in the emergency room due to complications giving birth. Her body was never claimed, and after the appropriate amount of time, she was cremated. I do not know what was done with her ashes."

"I'm sorry, Erik," Christine whispered, her heart aching for him.

"There is no reason to be, I did not know her, and as I said, the doctors theorize that my facial deformity was a result of her careless use of drugs during her pregnancy," he related, still unwilling to raise his eyes to look directly at her. "She held no regard for me, thus why should I mourn the loss of her?"

"And your father?" she probed.

"I know even less about him," he chuckled, no humor in his tone. "Some one night stand, or boyfriend who did not wish to be saddled with the responsibility of raising a deformed freak, I can only assume. For just like my mother's body…no one came forth to claim _me_ either." He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, staring at the wall for a moment. "I had once thought that finding where I came from was important, that it would give me a sense of belonging…but I quickly abandoned that absurd notion. Where I belong does not rest in the past, it lies in the future, and I alone decide where that will be. We all must make our own path, regardless of where we come from. I shut the door on that part of my history a long time ago, Christine, and I have never looked back."

She sat there for a moment, not sure what to say. She knew he didn't want her pity, and yet by him divulging these things she felt she needed to offer him something.

"I don't remember much about my mother," she said, watching as Erik's eyes slowly turned towards her. "She died of breast cancer when I was only four. I do recall she had a very kind voice, soft hands, and a smile that would light up a room. There are, of course, lots of photos, a few old home movies, and some letters from her, but they're not the same as true memories."

"I have seen some pictures of your mother, Virginia Daaé," Erik revealed. "You favor her greatly in looks."

"That's what my father always says as well," she smiled, proud of that fact. "Yet, I've always wanted to know what she was like on the inside. What did she dream about, what were her pet peeves…what made her tick?"

"It would seem that fate has cheated us both out of the privilege of knowing such things, Christine," Erik surmised. "And yet…at least you are assured that she loved you. That alone should be a major comfort to you." He then cleared his throat and picked up his pen once more, effectively saying that the conversation was over and that he needed to get back to work.

Christine stared at the magazine in front of her, but she was not focused on the words, her mind lost in thought. So, Erik was truly an orphan…with no parents, no grand-parents, no aunts or uncles that he knew about. She too was alone, with only the obscure cousins or distant relations dotting her past. For years it had only been her and her father, and that had been just fine. Yet not to know where you came from…that must be hard on Erik. No wonder he was so adamant about having an heir and providing two parents for his child. A typical family life, something he never had for himself… _that_ is what he was striving to create.

Shaking her head to clear her mind, Christine looked down at the final paragraph in the article. There it stated _the quickest way to decide if you are indeed dating a psychopath was to try this simple trick. Yawn…if your partner is motivated to yawn as well, it shows that he or she is capable of demonstrating empathy. It proves that they are caring enough to sympathize with you, and thus possibly prove they are not clinically deranged._

Well, that should be easy enough to test out, she decided. Christine was rather tired, so releasing a yawn was not difficult at all, and after she did, she waited. Nothing. Erik had kept working without even seeming to notice. She tried again, this time making a bigger show of it, thinking perhaps she had been too subtle the first time. Still no response from him. Well, drat! This was not looking good. A third yawn escaped her lips, followed by a little sigh, hoping to garnish a reaction from her husband at last. When nothing happened once again, she gave up in a huff, hunkering down further against the sofa pillow and mentally deeming the article a sham and a mockery to good journalism. For Christine refused to believe that she had married a potential ax murderer.

"Come, Christine," Erik said, having managed to rise from his desk and come to stand beside her without making a sound. She couldn't stop herself from jumping just a bit, startled by his sudden nearness. "It is obvious that you are exhausted. It is time for bed."

"But your work?" she protested, seeing that he still had a stack of papers he had not gone through yet. "I don't want to stop you from finishing."

"Your health is far more important than some insignificant paperwork," he argued, holding out his hand as he helped her rise from where she sat. "I will not have you become overly tired and fall ill again. It is late and you have school in the morning."

Christine ceased her arguments and allowed him to guide her upstairs, ducking her head as a pleased smile spread over her lips. How ridiculous she now felt for even considering Erik to be some emotionless psychopath, deciding that the yawning exercise was a silly crock. If Erik didn't care about her, or her feelings, he would certainly not have set aside his own work just to see that she got a good night's sleep.

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As she readied herself for bed, Christine couldn't help but think of all they seemed to have accomplished over the past nineteen days. They had gone from strangers to…to…well, she had no idea how to classify what they were now, but it was far from strangers. They shared a bed - platonically for the time being - ate and lived together, conversed pleasantly, as well as formed a student/teacher relationship that they both seemed to enjoy. There was no love as of yet, but even Christine could no longer deny the sexual attraction that seemed to ignite within her whenever they touched. It was a start.

After they had both climbed into bed and the light had been extinguished, she lay there for a while, thinking about where to go next. They had become friends, or at least friendly, so what was the next step? Did Erik have a plan for this as well? Dare she ask?

"Erik," she began before she could talk herself out of it.

"Yes, Christine?" he responded, no sign of sleepiness in his voice – proving to her that he had agreed to come to bed only for her benefit, and not his own.

"Are you…happy?" she asked, sounding very unsure of her wording.

"Happy?" he parroted.

"With…well, the way things are going," she continued, rolling over on her side and facing him as she spoke, her hands sandwiched together between her cheek and pillow. "Are we progressing in a manner that pleases you?"

"To be perfectly honest, Christine, I had no set schedule on how all of this _would_ proceed," he admitted, sounding almost embarrassed by the confession. "Once you signed the contract…well, that was as far as I had planned ahead. The rest of this is uncharted waters, so to speak. But, am I happy?" He paused there for a long moment, as if contemplating the seriousness of such a question. "I can honestly say yes, I _am_ the most happy I have ever been."

Christine was stunned. The happiest he'd _ever_ been? The weight of such a responsibility was a bit staggering, and she worried over her ability to keep it up. What if this was the best she could ever do? What if she found she could never offer Erik more than what she felt right now, a tentative friendship with a smattering of sexual attraction? And did she even _want_ to give more? Yet, as Erik turned his head towards her and she caught the look in his eyes, reflected in the moonlight, she felt an overwhelming desire to try…to give him more. His past was a tragic mess, his present was fraught with loneliness, and by his own admission, she alone held the power to change that. Yes, Christine would do her very best to allow any and all positive feelings to develop between them, this she swore.

"I…I'm glad, Erik," she quietly confessed. "And thank you for talking with me about your parents tonight. I really appreciate your openness in doing so. It means a lot."

"It does?" he sounded stunned.

"Yes, very much," she assured him. "That's what I was talking about today when I said I wanted an open marriage. When you share things like that with me, it makes me feel…closer to you. Like I know you better. I enjoy that."

"I…I enjoy hearing about your past as well, Christine," he told her, sounding as if he had just solved a mysterious puzzle that had been frustrating him for a long time.

"Well," she said with a sigh, suddenly feeling as tired as Erik had earlier assumed her to be. "Good night."

"Good night, Christine," Erik replied, watching as she rolled over, back into her usual position, facing away from him. He was quiet for a moment and the spoke again. "Christine…why did Amir refer to himself as the Big Bad Wolf and you as Little Red Riding Hood today? What does that mean?"

"Nothing, Erik," she told him with an adorable giggle. "Just a couple of silly names I made up. Trust me, it's nothing to worry about. Goodnight."

Erik, however, got very little sleep that night, spending many hours wide awake thinking about what his wife had said about feeling closer to him…and how Christine might look in a sexy little dress, wearing a red hood and cape. She was definitely everything that a big, bad wolf could want.

* * *

 **Look...more bonding!**

 **And we learned a little bit more of Erik's past too...well, we learned that he knows very little about it!**

 **So...how many of you are now going to try that yawning trick on your 'significant other'? I got this all from an article on line...but don't believe everything you read! I don't want to have to write another disclaimer. ha ha.**

 **So, Erik is going to punjab the gardner if Christine's flowers don't bloom, huh? Silly man.**

 **Wow...I'm shocked Amir walked away from that conversation with all his teeth. ha ha.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest C:** And as much as Erik believes otherwise...he IS just a regular guy. Subject to the same desires as any man. Ha ha, I'm sure if Erik is around, Amir is only too happy to take a break from his guard duty and go get himself a nice sweet coffee. Ha ha, no cool hats, but getting to pick up a piece of the coat is cool! Just as long as it was not a part covered in goat-blood. ha ha. (boy, if one didn't know we were talking about the musical of Joseph, that might sound really creepy!) Thanks.

 **phantomphan:** I'm tickled that you got such a kick out of me slipping in the title of my other story. It made me laugh too. Thanks and I will indeed continue!

 **Kristin:** She's not completely oblivious...just...well...unaware? She didn't plan on getting Erik all hot and bothered...but now that she knows she can, she will be more careful. Amir is a man too, so of course he would know just how Erik felt when seeing her in that outfit. Gerald was thinking "Man I hope she comes out soon, I really, really don't want to explain to Erik how all my tires got stolen and the limo was keyed and all my headlights smashed." That's why he got out and stood there looking mean...to protect his car! ha ha. Yep, Daddy Daae getting better is something we are all hoping for. Time will tell. Thanks.

 **Guest:** Now up to chapter 49 actually, and yes several major events HAVE happened by that point. Some that make Erik VERY happy...some that made Christine Very happy...some that drove Erik insane...and a good many secrets have been revealed about Erik, Amir and Antoinette's past. ha ha. Not sure how else I can describe things without giving anything away. ha ha.

 **Guest:** Glad you enjoyed it. I will keep the one you are reading in mind, but with the wide variety offered by Fan Fiction, I already have so many other stories I have to read first! ha ha. So many stories...so little time. OH, and I have to finish writing my own too. ha ha. Thanks for the recommendation though, I appreciate it.


	26. Chapter 26

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 **Good morning...it's Wednesday!**

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 **Chapter 26**

 **~X~**

* * *

Monday arrived, and with it came the dress rehearsal for her skit at Juilliard. Christine apologized to the other two girls for not choosing an outfit similar to theirs, claiming that she just didn't feel as comfortable in the skimpy costume as they apparently were. She decided not to mention it was due to her husband's insistence on the matter, not wishing for them to think badly of him. For in all honesty, once Erik had pointed it out, Christine would have felt rather self-conscious about exposing so much skin in public.

Yet, as they practiced both singing and choreography, Barb and Tammi decided they wanted to change their costumes to dresses as well, claiming that Christine's twirly skirt was rather eye-catching. This made her feel so much better, and would not cause her to stick out like the sore thumb during the performance. So she gave the girls the address of the second hand store where she had bought hers. The two of them were very excited to go shopping later that evening. When they were at last finished with their rehearsal, Christine left the stage, running directly into Meg as she hurried towards her.

"That was wonderful, Chris!" she said in a bubbly voice. "You're gunna just kill the night of the program."

"If so, it'll be because I tripped over my own two feet and landed in the audience," Christine laughed, wiping her face with one of the stage towels provided. "I honestly don't have a clue what I'm doing up there, I've never had to dance while I sang before."

"Well…I was mostly complimenting your voice," Meg stated, looking a bit hesitant. "But, since _you_ brought it up…your dance steps could use a bit of work. Would you like me to help you with that?"

"Yes, please!" Christine begged, gripping Meg's arm in desperation.

"Then consider it done," her ballerina friend chuckled. "See if you can stay an hour later each day after classes, starting tomorrow, and we can meet in the dance room to practice. The number seems relatively easy, and it won't take any time at all to get you into shape. I've got'cha back, sista'."

"That's good, since I'll likely land on my backside more than once," Christine laughed good-naturedly.

"I've got to run now, but I'll see you tomorrow, all right?" Meg called over her shoulder as she skipped away.

"Yes, thank you!" Christine nodded, waving as she disappeared out of the auditorium.

.

.

When it came time to head home, Christine was stopped in the hallway by Professor Stanley, asking if she would join him in his office for a bit. Knowing that Gerald was waiting for her outside, she hesitated for a moment, but in the end went with him out of pure curiosity. When she stepped in, she was surprised to see two others there as well, Professor Reiner, and one of Christine's voice coaches, Mrs. Weatherly.

"Have…have I done something wrong?" Christine asked, cautiously taking the seat that Mr. Stanley pulled out for her.

"Not at all, Miss Daae," Reiner assured her, a wide smile on his face. "In fact, we have some very splendid news."

Christine thought about correcting him on his use of her maiden name, telling them that she would prefer to go by her new married title, but she was far too confused at the moment to do so.

"We have decided to add one final performance to the event coming up, and it will concern you…if you're interested, of course," Stanley told her, also taking a seat behind his desk. "We would like to showcase three of our best vocalists by having them perform a number together, and we believe that _you_ qualify as one of those three."

"You…you think I'm good enough for that?" she stammered, shocked by this news.

"We very much believe this," Mrs. Weatherly said firmly. "You and the other two would each sing part of a song of our choosing, taking turns so that those in the audience can experience each of your talents in full. Are you willing to be one of those three, Christine?"

"I…I would be honored," she quickly assured them, a smile of pure delight spreading over her face. "Thank you all for the opportunity, I'm overwhelmed… truly I am. But, are you sure? I've only been here for a week, wouldn't you rather choose someone who's been at your school for much longer?"

"Your voice won you this part, Christine," Reiner informed her. "You have worked very hard since arriving and we would be foolish not to recognize your gifts and talent."

"Then yes! I accept," she told them assuredly. "What song will we be singing…will I need a specific costume…when will I be practicing with the others?"

"One thing at a time," Professor Stanley laughed, holding up his hands in a halting fashion. "We still need to speak with the other two who will be joining you, and once we have our trio arranged, you will be notified about your rehearsal schedule and how you should dress. In the meantime, here is the song you will be singing, so you can become familiar with it - your section is highlighted. I do hope the fact that it is in Italian will not be a problem?"

"No…not at all!" she told him, knowing that she would happily learn Swahili if that's what was required of her. "Thank you very much!"

"No, Christine," Professor Reiner corrected. "Thank _you_."

.

.

Christine was still dumbstruck as she left the room, her eyes wide with excitement over the news. _Erik was going to flip!_ She was still rather dazed as she walked out the front doors, eager to make it to the limo and tell Gerald her wonderful news. Unfortunately, Christine was so distracted that she failed to see the crowd of people quickly approaching from the side…until it was too late. The group all but mobbed her, shoving microphones in her face and blinding her with the flashes from their cameras.

"Mrs. Thorn, Mrs. Thorn!" they called from every direction, causing Christine to take a few steps back and shield her eyes.

"When did you meet Erik Thorn," one asked.

"How long were you two dating?" came another.

"Are you pregnant…is that why the wedding took place so quickly?" was next.

"What?" Christine responded, not knowing what this was all about. "Pregnant? No…I'm not…what?"

"Is it true that you were once a stripper, Mrs. Thorn? And that you met your husband when giving him a lap dance?" a rather greasy looking man asked, pushing his way forward and causing Christine to step farther back to avoid him touching her. Unfortunately, as she did, her heel caught on a step, and losing her balance Christine fell backwards, landing on her backside as her right arm hit the pavement. She drew in a sharp breath as she felt the rough concrete scrape her skin, yet the mob only seemed to crowd in more, still blasting her with questions and taking photos.

"OUT OF MY WAY!" came the very loud and demanding voice of Gerald, his muscular figure shoving through the crowd. "Leave her alone, you vultures! Back off, or I swear you'll regret it!"

Christine once more shielded her face, but this time in hopes that no one would see the tears that had formed in her eyes over her confusion, as well as the scrape on her arm. When she felt Gerald lifting her off the ground and cradling her like a child, she quickly buried her face in his chest, doing her best to block out the offensive questions they were still firing at her. That was when she heard the unmistakable voice of Amir.

"That's enough! All of you just get away!" the Persian ordered, holding out his arms in a halting manner, allowing Gerald to make his way through the group like Moses parting the Red Sea. As he set her in the back seat and shut the door, Christine felt a wave of gratitude to both men wash over her.

Daring to glance out the tinted window, she could see Gerald talking with Amir, the two men looking fit to be tied. The stood their ground, fending off those persistent few who continued to aim their cameras at the car window. Christine could imagine they were discussing what Erik would have to say on the matter, and she could only assume it wouldn't be good. But right now, she didn't care, she just wanted to get away from there…away from all the people who wanted to rip her and her reputation to shreds. _A stripper? Pregnant?_ Where in the world had they come up with those wild ideas?

Christine had just bent her elbow to get a look at her arm when Gerald opened the front door and slid into the driver's seat, slamming the car into gear and exiting the parking area at a rather high speed.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Thorn," the bald driver stated in an irritated tone. "Mr. Dessan is going to handle that unruly mob. I can guarantee you won't be bothered by them again!"

"What did they want from me?" she questioned, giving a hiss of displeasure as she examined the scrape. Gerald must have seen the blood oozing down her arm through the rear-view mirror, for he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it back to her through the little window. Pressing it to the wound, she watched as it quickly stained red.

"They only want a story, and obviously the more scandalous the better," he informed her, weaving through traffic as he sped through the streets. "Mr. Thorn does not give interviews, and he has put a gag order on all the newspapers and magazines in the city, forbidding them to publish anything about him. Yet apparently, they figure his new wife is fair game, and chose to ambush you the moment you stepped outside the school." He hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand in frustration. "I'm really sorry for not seeing them sooner."

"You're not to blame," she quickly assured him. "And I bet this all happened because I changed my last name to Thorn last Friday. I had no idea that anyone would care, or even _want_ to know anything about me personally."

"You're now married to one of the richest, not to mention most mysterious, men in the city," Gerald explained. "They'd give their eye-teeth to get an interview with you…trust me, you're big news."

"But what if I don't _want_ to be big news?" she protested.

"Well…it's too late for that now, don't you think?" he shrugged, turning his attention back to the road.

 _Too late_ …well, it certainly would appear that way, Christine thought to herself. Too late to change her mind, too late to insist on any more addendums to the contract…and far too late to run. She was stuck!

.

.

Erik had decided to leave early that day, anxious to get home and see his little wife, and perhaps spend some time talking with her like they had the night before. He was never keen on divulging things about his past or private life, but if it afforded him the opportunity to learn more about Christine…well, perhaps it was not so bad.

Yet, just as he reached for the car handle, his phone rang - and not just any ring, but a special one that he and Amir had designated for emergencies. Pulling it out of his pocket, he put it to his ear, his body already tensing up in anticipation of what his friend might say next.

"What?" he barked, dispensing with any pleasantries.

"Christine was accosted by a mob of reporters…all wanting an interview with the new Mrs. Erik Thorn," Amir told him over the phone. "They surrounded her outside Juilliard…and she fell."

"Is she injured?" Erik seethed, his free hand fisting in rage.

"Just a scratch it would seem, but she appeared rather shaken up," Amir's voice was low, feeling his employer's pain upon hearing this. "You best get home as quickly as possible."

Erik didn't even bother to respond, simply hitting the end-call button and quickly getting into his car. Once the car was started, he cursed a few times under his breath, his angry grip turning his knuckles white against the steering wheel and gear shift. _How dare they approach his wife! Someone would pay dearly for this,_ he thought to himself. As he burst out of the parking garage and onto the street, Erik was glad he had taken the Jaguar that day, for it was about to be put through its paces!

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.

Erik broke all speed records getting home, pulling into the driveway and stopping in front of the door, not even bothering to put his car in the garage. Bounding up the steps he was about to grab for his keys when the door opened for him, with Amir stepping out of the way to let him pass.

"She's in the sun-room," he informed Erik. "Gerald and Mrs. Murphy are tending to her."

Erik gave no reply, simply headed through the house, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw Christine, lying on the sofa, yet looking none the worse for wear. But then he saw her arm, the nasty three inch scrape starting at her elbow and heading towards her wrist. Mrs. Murphy had cleaned it up nicely, and Gerald was hovering nearby with a piece of gauze, medical tape, and an ace bandage, ready to apply when needed.

"It's just a scratch, for heaven's sake," Christine was complaining, apparently upset by all the mothering she was getting. "I've had worse as a child when I fell off the swings."

"Well, you are no longer a child, Christine," Erik stated, storming into the room and coming to stand at the end of the sofa, staring at her with fire in his eyes. "You are my wife, and this sort of thing will never happen again!"

"Why on earth did it happen in the first place?" she shot back, assuming his anger was directed at her. " _I_ certainly never had anyone beating down my door to get an interview before I met you! I hardly think that _I'm_ the one to blame here."

"No…you are not," Erik agreed, realizing that he was projecting his rage onto her, when in truth all he wished to do was take her in his arms and hold her tightly, thankful that she was all right. " _I_ should have taken precautions long before this. Of course they would come after you, seeking a story…any juicy tidbit that might turn a buck. I am the one to blame, only me."

Christine was stunned silent by his admission of guilt, and found she had nothing else to say. Everyone else appeared just as shocked as she was, for they too looked at Erik as if seeing him for the first time.

"May I please have a moment alone with Christine?" he asked, his voice now just above a whisper. Still everyone heard him just fine, and they all turned and filed out, with Gerald handing Erik the bandage as he went. Once they were alone, Erik slowly walked to the sofa and kneeled down, his masked face now at the same level as Christine's. "Does it hurt?"

"A…a little bit," she admitted. "But Mrs. Murphy washed it clean and spread some Neosporin over it, so I think I'll live."

"I will make sure of it," he grumbled, reaching out as he gently placed the sterile gauze over the scrape, tapped it in place, and began to wrap it with the ace bandage.

"Don't you think this is sort of…well…over-kill?" she asked, beginning to feel like a mummy with as much wrapping as Erik was putting on her arm.

"Humor me," Erik stated firmly. "I will not take any chances with your health, Christine."

"No, of course not," she huffed, giving a heavy sigh. "So, tell me, why were those people all fired up to get an interview from me?" she questioned. "And what did you mean when you said you should have taken precautions earlier…what _kind_ of precautions?" Christine didn't know why, but the conversation about how Erik had insinuated that he would have to 'eliminate' all her former lovers sprung to mind.

"I should have spoken to the newspapers once again, informing them that you fell under the same restraining order I already have in place," he told her, finishing up as he secured the bandage around her arm. Erik found he had the overwhelming urge to lean forward and give it a kiss, the foolish gesture somehow being able to speed the healing. Yet, he refrained, instead moving from the floor to the sofa beside her, gazing down into her lovely blue eyes. "I will be sure to contact them first thing in the morning, assuring that this will _never_ happen again. You are my wife…thus it is my duty to protect you from those who wish to harm you or defame your reputation. I am very sorry this happened, Christine. Very sorry indeed."

"Well…thank you," she mumbled, her fingers grazing over the bandage he had just put on her. "And I suppose in truth, I'm somewhat to blame as well. After all, I'm the one who changed my name at the school without telling you beforehand that I was going to do so. I think that's how they found out…as well as knowing where to pounce on me like they did."

"You are not to blame for any of this, Christine," Erik stated firmly. "Out of everyone, you're the innocent one here. Though I intend on having a very stern talk with Amir and Gerald over their failure to protect you properly."

"No, don't do that!" she insisted. "It wasn't their fault, really. And the moment I was surrounded, Gerald came storming through like an army tank to rescue me. Amir was there too, and it was only thanks to them that I got out of there with only a scratch. I honestly think if I laid there much longer, I would have been trampled by those reporters."

"They were not reporters, they were scavengers…ambulance chasers, all looking for something to sell to the rag magazines, nothing more," Erik clarified, obviously having dealt with them on numerous occasions.

"And they said the most horrid things too!" Christine told him, still shocked by that last man's words. "One even accused me of being a stripper…and saying that was how we met!"

"THEY THOUGHT WHAT?" Erik was now beyond furious. "It is one thing to malign _my_ name…but yours? This will not be tolerated!"

"I'm sorry they cornered me so easily," she said with a look of guilt. "I guess I was just so excited about the news I just got, I failed to take note of my surroundings."

"Like a coiled up snake, they are very proficient at remaining hidden until they strike," Erik said in a reassuring tone. "They would have been very difficult to spot."

"Then please don't blame Amir or Gerald," she begged. "I don't hold them responsible, and neither should you. Please?"

"I will think on it," he told her, that being all he was willing to promise. "Now, what is this about good news?" Erik wished to change the subject, eager to hear something positive after such an upsetting experience.

"Oh, I can hardly believe it, but Professor Stanley called me into his office and offered me a small solo in the program for Juilliard!" she blurted out, the happy smile on her face doing strange things to Erik's heart. "Well, not truly a solo, as I will be sharing the stage with two others, but I do get to sing one part of the song all by myself."

"That is amazing, Christine!" Erik assured her, delighted that her talent was being recognized, and so quickly too. "I am so very proud of you!"

"I was rather shocked by their offer," she blushed, averting her eyes just a bit. "They sent me home with a copy of the song, but the trouble is…I don't speak Italian, and that's what the song is written in. I really hope I can sing it properly."

"I am fluent in Italian, as well as several other languages, so I will see that you have no trouble learning the lyrics," he told her, standing up and offering her his hand. "We shall practice each evening until you feel more than confident."

"Oh, speaking of practice, Meg has offered to help me with my dance steps for the skit as well," she told him as she rose to her feet. "I'll have to stay an hour later each day though, and I'm not sure that will leave me enough time to visit my father and still be home before you."

"You need not worry about such things," Erik said, touched that she would be concerned about his feelings. "I completely understand the need to excel in your chosen art, and I will not begrudge you the opportunity to do so."

"Thank you," Christine told him, a bit shocked by his generous attitude. Then again, she could tell he was doing his best to make up for what happened today – something he believed was his fault.

"Now, why don't you go upstairs, change your clothes, and rest a bit," he suggested. "You've had a very tiring, yet exciting day. I will let you know when dinner is ready, all right?"

"I suppose a little nap wouldn't be a bad idea," she nodded, suddenly feeling rather drained. "But don't let me sleep too long, the recital is this weekend and I need all the practice time I can get."

"We will not forgo our session, I promise," Erik assured her, escorting her to the bottom of the stairs and watching as she climbed them, disappearing down the hall to their bedroom. Once she was out of sight, he turned to search out Amir and Gerald, intent on plying them for more information on the disturbing incident. He found them in the kitchen, the two men leaning on the counter with cups of coffee in their hands, talking quietly. Mrs. Murphy was busy fixing dinner, but all three looked up as Erik walked in, the scowl on his face telling them he was not at all happy.

"Tell me exactly what happened," he demanded, pulling out a chair at the table and taking a seat, his arms crossed over his chest.

Amir and Gerald gave each other nervous looks, but both took seats across from their employer, the two men launching into a very detailed report of what took place. When they felt they had disclosed all the information they had, they fell silent, waiting to see what Erik would do or say.

"I see," he replied at last, his expression unreadable. "It would appear that Christine's assessment of the situation matches yours as well. She claimed that you two performed your duties admirably, and that neither one of you should be blamed for what took place." At this, Amir and Gerald gave a visible sigh of relief. "However…" Erik spoke again, his tone putting them on high alert. "I will not have such a thing happening again, am I clear? This was a minor incident, but it could have just as easily been a kidnapping…or an assassination attempt. I will not rule out anything, no matter how farfetched it seems. I have enemies, a great deal of them, making Christine a constant target. It's time to step up your game…or else. Understand?"

"Of course," Amir agreed.

"Perfectly clear, Mr. Thorn," Gerald nodded, a glint of determination in his eyes.

"Good," Erik said, turning his attention to his driver. "Now, I left my car out front, please see that it is moved to the garage before a pigeon targets it."

"Right away, sir," Gerald replied, standing up and hurrying out the door, eager to be out of Erik's line of fire.

This left Amir as Erik's sole target, with Mrs. Murphy doing her best to continue working and not appear to be hanging on every word being spoken.

"I'm very sorry, Erik," Amir said, breaking the silence at last. "I spotted the group of paparazzi only moments before they struck. I promise I'll be more alert next time."

"Oh, trust me, there will _not_ be a next time," Erik growled. "I fully intend to slap each and every one of those rag magazines, and any others who dared to accost my wife, with enough lawsuits that it will put them in the poor house!"

"Yes…you _could_ do that," Amir agreed, though he looked rather skeptical about the idea. "But perhaps that might be overreacting just a bit, don't you think?"

 _"Overreacting?"_ Erik barked out. "My wife was injured! I hardly believe I am overreacting!"

"Yet, don't you think there might be another way to handle this?" Amir continued, though trying to be a bit more diplomatic this time.

"How? You know they won't stop until they get their story! They will hound her day and night if I do not do something!" he pointed out. "And I will not allow Christine to be stalked like some sort of prey!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Mrs. Murphy broke in, turning around to stare at the two men. "Why not just give them what they want? If it's an interview they desire so badly…then let them have on, but on _your_ terms, not theirs."

The two men stared at the usually unassuming cook with a bit of surprise, neither one having expected her to speak.

"What? I can't have good ideas just because I'm a woman…and a cook?" she questioned.

"Of course not," Erik told her, clearing his throat as he spoke. "I very much value your opinion, Mrs. Murphy…and I think your suggestion is ideal."

"You do?" Amir asked in shock, assuming if he had suggested such a thing, Erik would have laughed in his face.

"Yes, like Mrs. Murphy said, if I allow Christine to them the interview they are after, they will have no further need to hound her," he stated, the wheels in his mind already turning. "I will call tomorrow and set up an appointment with every reputable newspaper and magazine in town, and maybe even a few news channels, but the interview will be conducted on _my_ territory and under _my_ close supervision. I will not have them attacking my wife with their absurd accusations again. Then, when the information floods the newsstands, it will put an end to this need for some exclusive. I will also stipulate that by granting the interview, that no one is to bother me or my wife again, or heads will roll!"

"Do you really think it'll work?" Amir questioned, always a bit unnerved when Erik got that sinister smile on his face.

"Oh…it will work, all right," Erik said firmly. "I will _make_ it work."

"All right, if you say so," Amir shrugged, standing up and preparing to leave.

"Are you forgetting something, Mr. Dessan?" Erik asked, holding out his hand expectantly.

"What?" Amir questioned, not understanding Erik's point.

"You owe me a hundred dollars," he stated, his tone very serious.

"Why?" the Persian demanded. "What did I do?"

"Obviously not your job!" Erik accused. "This is the second time that Christine has ended up on the floor, or ground, while on your watch. If it happens a third time, I will be demanding a lot more than simply money in compensation."

Amir just rolled his eyes in exasperation, not even dignifying Erik's empty threat with a response. Still, he pulled out his wallet and handed over a hundred-dollar bill, the action now almost routine between the two. Erik pocketed the money and watched his friend leave, a small grin touching his lips once he was out of sight.

"You two are as bad as a couple of children," Mrs. Murphy laughed, turning back to her job of fixing dinner.

Erik's grin grew even wider.

* * *

 **Well, it looks like Christine is going to have a nice little solo piece in the program this coming weekend! And of course Erik speaks Italian...and several other languages. ha ha. Would we expect anything else?**

 **But her changing her name at school had a few adverse repercussions. But Erik will fix things!**

 **Gerald and Amir both did a good job, but Erik wants to make sure it never happens again!**

 **Poor Amir...one-hundred dollars poorer...again. ha ha.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Kristin:** ha ha, Erik CAN influence the gardener...but not the garden! Even if he tried really really hard. Glad you enjoyed it. Thanks.

 **Gummy:** I'm glad I can brighten your day with my chapters. And you have never been obnoxious! Phangirling is expected too! In fact, it is almost a requirement when reading a POTO story. ha ha. To me, Erik is tall, thin, but strong, dark hair, (not a wig) and his right side of his face is the only part messes up in THIS story - I change it up with each one. He has the golden eyes, and wears the half mask. I think his one side is good looking, but I don't see him as any particular Phantom actor I've seen before. In my mind he looks like...well...Erik. But you can imagine him anyway you want, that's the beauty of reading verses watching. And NO, this Erik would never lose control or in any way harm Christine. In Angel of Persia I kind of had him do something, but there was extenuating circumstances that was not his fault...but he still blamed himself terribly for it. But this Erik wouldn't lift a finger against her. Ever. And no, I never saw a play version where Erik did that on stage...interesting. It must be that each actor puts his own little spin on the character. Thanks.

 **Phantomphan:** Sorry there are not 100 chapters for you to read all at once. Not that I see it going that far, ha ha, but you know what I meant. I did just finish chapter 50 though, so you still have a ways to go...and then some. Thanks for enjoying my writing. See you next time!

 **Guest:** Was it short? Some are long, some are not as long...I just write till the scene is done. ha ha. Amir is full of sass...and I think Erik often enjoys a bit of it...but not overly much. ha ha. Maybe Erik will get even later, short sheeting his bed or putting dirt in his coffee grounds. ha ha. Fake magazines in stories will write anything to boost sales these days. ha ha. Thanks.


	27. Chapter 27

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 **Oh look...it's Friday, and that means POSTING DAY!**

 **And it's a nice LONG one too!**

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 **Chapter 27**

 **~X~**

* * *

Erik's resolve to put an end to the situation with the media only intensified when the footage taken in front of Juilliard showed up on the seven o'clock news. Christine groaned in horror as her graceful fall was shown multiple times, as well as Gerald's rescue, and Amir's words of warning, firmly insisting that the cameras be shut off.

"Well, now I'm thoroughly humiliated," she said, burying her face in the sofa pillow, unable to watch any more of it.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Christine," Erik insisted, pointing the remote at the TV and turning the offensive scene off. "And after tomorrow, all of this will be done and over with, a forgotten memory."

"So, we're going to give an interview…willingly?" she asked, still a bit shocked by his solution to the problem. "What if they ask personal questions? What if they want to know how we met, or anything else that I'm not supposed to talk about? How will I know what to say…or what _not_ to say?"

"Well…since you know so very little about me or my business, it would be difficult for you to reveal anything potentially harmful," he pointed out logically. "As for personal questions, I leave that up to you. I will not dictate what you can, or cannot, reveal about your own life, allowing you to keep what you wish private. I only ask that you try not to say anything that might prove embarrassing…for either of us."

"Well, that might be a bit difficult," she huffed, gesturing to the now black television on the wall. "For as you just saw, I'm apparently rather good at making a fool of myself."

"You did not look foolish. If anything, you managed to fall rather… _gracefully_ ," Erik said, doing his best to sound confident of his words.

"Graceful, me?" she scoffed, turning to stare at him with an amused expression. "I doubt Meg would agree with you! She would probably say I looked as graceful as a newborn calf."

"And how would Meg Giry know what a newborn calf looks like?" Erik said in a mocking tone. "That girl has never set foot outside the city, and as far as she is concerned, milk comes from cartons purchased at a store."

"Well…there's always nature shows on TV," Christine countered, now highly amused by their childish argument.

"Regardless, if anyone dares to say my wife resembles a bovine, in any shape or form, they will have me to answer to," Erik quipped, standing up and closing his laptop. "Now, come…our dinner has had enough time to settle, and I believe I would like to hear this song you have been assigned to sing at the recital. With only a few days left before it must be performed, we should not waste a moment getting you comfortable with it."

And as Erik took her by the hand and led her to the music room, Christine found she couldn't agree more.

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"The song is called 'Time to Say Goodbye'," Christine told him, handing him the sheets with both the lyrics and music, once they had arrived.

"Ah, yes, Con te partirò," Erik nodded, apparently pleased. "Not a bad selection, and I believe that this piece will compliment your vocal range very well."

"But what about it being in Italian?" she moaned. "Do you think I can learn the words and sing them correctly in time?"

"I am certain that you can, Christine, so stop your fretting," Erik instructed, placing the sheet music on the piano and playing a few of the notes, giving a small hum of approval. "Now, first things first, do you know what the song is saying?"

"Not at all," she admitted. "I've heard it plenty of times and it's very beautiful, but I don't know a word of Italian…well, other than what was listed on the menu at the restaurant."

"Con te partirò, which literally translated means 'I will leave with you' is an Italian love song written by Francesco Sartori and Lucio Quarantotto," Erik rattled off, impressing Christine once again with his knowledge of anything musical. "It was first performed by Andrea Bocelli at the 1995 Sanremo Festival and recorded on his album, Bocelli, the same year. In it the singer talks of how he dreams of a girl within his dark rooms, alone, knowing that only she can set his heart alight. She is his sun and his moon, his only love. He speaks of places and countries he has never seen, but wishes to set sail on ships which no longer exist, and experience them for himself…with her." Here he paused, a faraway look in his eyes, as if he were seeing a parallel between his life and that of the singer. But quickly he regained his composure, clearing his throat as he continued speaking. "It, of course, loses something in translation, but it is indeed a very romantic song."

"Oh…I see," Christine whispered, also touched by the words Erik had spoken.

"However, it would appear that they are expecting you to sing the version made famous as a duet with Sarah Brightman, with you and another female singer sharing her lines…and the third being a male, I assume?" Erik guessed, eyeing the three separate parts outlined.

"I suppose, they said they hadn't talked to the other singers yet, so I'm not sure who they have in mind," she confessed.

"Well, you are the only one _I_ am concerned with, Christine, so…shall we begin?" Erik asked. "We will first start by breaking down the words, this way you will understand what you are singing and it will not simply be a jumble of sounds you must mimic."

They spent the next half an hour dissecting the song, having her learn the pronunciation and meaning behind each word. Erik had been right…it was a lovely song. Once she was relatively comfortable reading the lines, understanding how to sound them out by sight, it was time to add in the music.

"All right, Christine," Erik said, his fingers hovering over the keys as he prepared to play. "Sing the opening line and let me see how you sound."

"But that's not the part I'm assigned," she corrected, turning her paper around and pointing to the lines they had highlighted. "I only need to learn the second set of verses, just before the male singer comes in, and then join them both during the final."

"No, Christine. You will learn the _entire_ song," Erik insisted. "A true artist does nothing half way."

"But the recital is in less than a week! And now you want me to learn not only my lines, but theirs as well? How am I supposed to do that?" she argued.

"With my help, of course," Erik told her, a long suffering sigh. "Now…allow me to demonstrate how it _should_ be sung, and then you will repeat after me."

Christine gave a bit of a huff, knowing Erik was right, but her nerves were still on edge. Could she learn all this in time? Yet the moment Erik began to play, and sang the first verse, all other thoughts flew from her mind. Christine was completely floored. _Erik was amazing…simply amazing!_ Closing her eyes she let the sound of his voice flow over her, sweeping her along on a wave of sheer delight. She already knew he could play like a master, but this was the first time she had ever heard him sing. Who _was_ this man?

"Christine?" Erik spoke, breaking her from the near trance he had put her in. "It is your turn."

"My…what?" she asked, shaking her head just a bit. "I'm sorry…I was…well… _distracted_. Could you please sing that first line again?"

Erik rolled his eyes, obviously unaware of the power his voice held over her, and began again. This time Christine did her best to listen to each syllable, watching his lips carefully so as not to miss a single thing. When he halted this time, and replayed the stanza, she did her best to repeat what he had said, looking at her paper to help her recall the correct pronunciation.

"Not bad, though you need to enunciate a bit more if you wish the meaning to be understood," he told her, starting the music once again.

By the tenth time, Christine was feeling very comfortable with the first few verses of the song, liking the way the Italian words rolled off her tongue.

"Much better, I think we have made significant progress," he complimented.

"But we haven't even gotten to _my_ part yet," she pointed out.

"Patience, my eager wife," Erik laughed. "Rome was not built in a day, and you can't learn an entire Italian song in the same amount of time. But we will continue on if you feel up to it, and at least master it to the point where the male singer comes in."

"Yes, I want to go on," she insisted, eager to learn more, not to mention hear Erik sing again. It was literally hypnotic, forcing Christine to pay more than the extra amount of attention in order to focus on his words and not just his melodious tones. Christine could easily imagine what his voice, spoken in the darkness, might do to a woman's inhibitions, and she could feel a tingling warmth spread all over her body. Again she had to shake her head slightly to clear her mind, she needed to concentrate! This was important. "I'm really excited about this part! I can't believe they chose me for a solo piece so soon!"

"They obviously recognize true talent," Erik stated. "Just as I did."

"Did you really?" Christine asked. "Just from my little songs at the restaurant?"

"From the moment you opened your mouth to sing your first note, I knew, Christine," Erik assured her. "I knew then that you were destined for greatness, and that only you could do _my_ music justice."

"And when will I get to hear this music of yours?" she questioned, having loved the audition piece he had written, and wished to hear more.

"All in good time, Christine," Erik informed her. "All in good time."

"Very well, I'll be patient if I must," she agreed with a slight huff. After all, she had the rest of her life to hear her husband's music. Christine just hoped Erik wouldn't make her wait as long for that, as it appeared he was going to make her wait to find out how he got that scar on his chest. "I really wish that my father could hear me sing this Saturday night," she said in a wistful voice.

"That has already been arranged, Christine," Erik told her, shuffling the music sheets in preparation for another run through. "You need not worry about a thing."

"What? You're bringing my father to Juilliard?" Christine was shocked by this…yet, now that she thought about it, she shouldn't have been. This _was_ Erik after all.

"Of course I am," he told her, sounding surprised that she would think otherwise. "He deserves to see his daughter shine on stage. The Leathwood van will transport him to the school and Miss Kimble will escort him up. Juilliard has box seats reserved for all the major donors on the balcony floor, and your father will have a perfect view of your performance."

"Oh…Erik!" Christine gasped, tears of pure joy filling her eyes. "Thank you…thank you so much for arranging that. I…I don't know what to say."

"Then say nothing at all, my tender-hearted wife," Erik said with a warm smile. "Just sing. Sing and show the world the amazing talent I have seen within you. Sing for me, my angel of music."

And so Christine did, pouring her heart out for Erik in song until nearly midnight!

.

.

The next morning, Erik handed her a CD of the music, telling her to listen to it in the car over and over again on her way to and from Juilliard, explaining that immersion was the best way to learn it. However, Christine was certain that Gerald might disagree, especially after hearing it at least a dozen times that morning alone.

"You know," he told her as they pulled up to the front steps of the music school. "If I listen to that one more time, I think _I_ could sing it myself," he laughed, turning around and leaning his arm across the open partition in the limo. "But I can guarantee I wouldn't sound half as good as you do, Mrs. Thorn. Go knock 'em dead today."

"I'll do my best!" she grinned, leaping out of the limo and bounding up the steps.

.

.

The administrators, and several of her professors, expressed their sincerest apologies for the incident that took place outside their school the previous day. They assured Christine that they would assign their security team to patrol the front of the school every day just before three, making sure that nothing like that would happen on their grounds again. Christine thanked them for their diligence, but knew that if anything was going to be done to eliminate the possibility, it would be done by Erik.

When she was finished for the day, she met Meg in the dance room, eager to work on her choreography. The spritely ballerina took her job very seriously, running Christine though the moves over and over again, while offering suggestions or demonstrating how it _should_ look.

"See, it's easy," Meg informed her, after executing the dance step flawlessly.

"Oh, sure, for _you_ maybe," Christine laughed. "But I'm just not that flexible!"

"Well, if you work with me for a while, I promise you will be," she then got a wicked smile on her face and gave Christine a wink. "And I bet your husband would thank me for it as well."

"MEGAN GIRY!" she gasped, shocked by the suggestive innuendo. "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"Oh, come on, you can't tell me that Erik wouldn't appreciate a little acrobatics in the bedroom, can you?" she laughed, tickled by the blush that crept into Christine's cheeks. "Every man wants a chick that's bendy, it only makes things more fun in bed, if you get my drift."

"And how would _you_ know?" Christine pressed, eyeing her friend with a look of suspicion. "Are you by chance speaking from experience?"

"Oh no, not me!" Meg stated, a look of horror on her face. "The last thing I need is an unplanned pregnancy ending my dance career before it even gets started. Besides, my mother would lock me in my room for a year if she knew I was even thinking of having sex!" Her bright smile then returned. "But I've heard a lot of the _other_ dancers telling juicy stories about their exploits, and I thought for someone who's married…like you…it might be something worth looking into."

"Well, I thank you for the offer, but I think I will stick to just learning the dance steps to our routine, if it's all the same to you," she said, shaking her head in exasperation.

"Suit yourself, but regardless of how you plan on using these skills, if you want to be dancing at the same level as Tammi and Barb, you'll need to do a lot of stretches over the next week," Meg informed her. "Now, let's take it from the top…and one, and two, and three, and four. Again! And one, and two, and three, and four."

.

.

Over the next hour of grueling twirls, spins, leaps, and kicks, Christine found she could not get the image out of her mind that Meg had inadvertently placed there. Of her and Erik…in bed, being intimate! Would he expect her to be adventurous, or experimental, during sex? Could she even live up to the standards of the other women he'd undoubtedly slept with during his lifetime? She could only imagine how popular he was with the ladies, his mask hardly a deterrent in light of his outrageous wealth and power. And while the idea of being intimate with Erik no longer filled Christine with an overwhelming sense of dread, she still wasn't ready to give herself over to him…at least not yet.

However, in the back of her mind, Christine also knew it would need to be soon. Their one month anniversary was fast approaching, and their second wasn't far behind, telling her that at some point she would _have_ to submit to the agreement she made. Still, had she not found herself imagining certain things about her husband? Her curiosity about him and his physique often cropping up at the most inopportune moments, not to mention the way his voice had made shivers run down her spine the previous night. And hadn't the time when he backed her up against the wall while she was wearing that skimpy outfit left her out of breath and rather… _excited?_ Never before had she felt that way…and she found she kind of wanted to feel like it again. Christine really hoped that was a good sign, and that perhaps a physical relationship with Erik would not be as bad as she original believed. Yet, she couldn't think about that right now, not while she was already struggling so hard to please her demanding dance coach!

So doing her best to push such thoughts from her mind, she gave Meg her full concentration, working her muscles until they were screaming for her to stop. Thankfully, the clock struck four just about the same time she thought she couldn't go on any longer.

"Good job, Christine," Meg complimented her. "Now that you appear to have the basics down, tomorrow we'll really get down to work."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Christine moaned, collapsing onto the floor in utter exhaustion.

.

.

Meanwhile, at Phantom Industries, Erik was still making calls, returning calls, and answering e-mails about the interviews he had set up for the following day. He had just got off the phone with the New York Times, when Antoinette walked in, an expensive leather briefcase in her hand.

"Am I bothering you?" she asked, apparently not really caring about the answer as she sat down in the chair in front of him.

"Would it matter?" he shot back, scratching one more name off his list.

"I got your wedding photos back today, if you'd like to take a look," she informed him, opening her briefcase and taking out a manila envelope, placing it on his desk. "They would have been done sooner, but I know you prefer your privacy, so I had to send them out to a developing company I could trust."

"Very good," Erik nodded, opening the flap and pulling the glossy photos out as he inspected each one carefully. He liked them all, mostly due to the fact that Christine was in them, but his favorite had to be the ones with only him and her. Yes, one of those would definitely be hanging on their wall…or perhaps nicely framed on his nightstand. After the very long and tiring day he had just experienced, seeing these was just the pick-me-up Erik needed. "I think Christine should see them before any decision are made on which ones to order more prints of. Yet, I would like to have this one in a frame for my desk here at work." He turned one around, showing his assistant exactly the one he meant.

"I thought you might say that," Antoinette smiled, reaching back inside her case and extracting a sleek black picture frame that held the very photo he had requested. "So I took the liberty of ordering it for you."

Erik took the item in his hands, allowing his thumb to glide over the glass just above Christine's smiling face. She appeared genuinely happy in this one, and Erik decided that was what made it his favorite. He wondered what she might have been thinking about at that very moment. Erik doubted it had been of him, so perhaps her father? He wished he knew so that he could recreate the same scenario over and over again, pulling that precious smile from her ruby red lips. Oh, his wife was perfect.

"Thank you, Antoinette," he whispered, without taking his eyes off the frame. "I appreciate your initiative."

"You're…welcome, Mr. Thorn," she responded, a bit shocked by his genuine words of gratitude.

"I must remain late tonight to finish up much of what I ignored today to make sure I have everything set up for tomorrow afternoon," he continued, placing the picture on his desk, right beside his computer monitor, where he could look at it all day. "Would you please swing these by my house on your way home and give them to Christine to look at. I think she will be pleased by your efforts." Erik then paused, and glanced up at her with a questioningly look. "Unless you have other plans, that is."

Now Antoinette was completely floored…had Erik Thorn just considered someone else's feelings for a change? Christine must be having a good effect on him.

"No…I have no plans tonight," she assured him, still a bit stunned. "Meg is going to some ballet tonight with a few of her friends from school, and won't be home till very late. So, I would be happy to drop them off. I've been wanting to visit with Christine for a while now."

"I am certain she will be pleased to see you as well," Erik stated, once again all business. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have several more newspapers to contact."

"You mean threaten?" Antoinette chuckled, tucking the envelope of pictures back inside her briefcase before rising to leave.

"Whatever gets results," Erik agreed, giving a devilish smile.

.

.

Christine had arrived home just in time to get the text from Erik saying he would be late and to go ahead and dine without him, that he would order something in for himself. Oddly enough, she found this made her a bit sad, yet she was not sure if it was because she would miss Erik…or just company in general. And the more she thought about it, the more it frustrated her. What _were_ her feelings for her husband now? Christine still had no clue.

"Well, it would have been nice to know I should only cook for one about an hour ago," Mrs. Murphy huffed, as she checked the pot-roast in the oven, the potatoes and carrots surrounding the cut of meat smelling divine. "Oh, well, I suppose there will be plenty of leftovers for sandwiches and maybe a stew."

"You could stay and eat it with me," Christine suggested. "Or take some home with you."

"Thanks for the offer, but I don't think my husband would take kindly to me bailing on him," she told her with a warm smile. "And I always fix our dinner before I come here, and then Gordon pops it in the oven an hour before I'm supposed to be home."

"Oh, well, that's all right. I know that I'll certainly enjoy it, and I promise it won't go to waste," Christine assured the cook, her stomach already rumbling at the mere thought of dinner. She had come home exhausted and starving, cursing Meg and her tyrannical drill sergeant ways with every step. Maybe asking a ballerina to help her with a few basic dance steps hadn't been the smartest idea in the world. But either way, Christine knew she would benefit from her teaching…or die in the process.

She was still sitting at the kitchen table, chatting with Mrs. Murphy, when there came the merry sound of the doorbell. Looking rather confused, Christine stood up and headed for the door.

"Who could that be?" she wondered, peeking out the peephole and seeing the friendly face of Antoinette. Quickly opening the door, she ushered the woman in.

"Antoinette, what a wonderful surprise," Christine greeted her. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" She then looked a bit worried, thinking perhaps she wasn't here to see her at all. "Erik's not home yet…he said he had to work late tonight."

"And he is. I just left him neck deep in paper work at his office," she chuckled. "He spent all day on the phone setting up the interview for tomorrow that he had to stay and catch up on everything else he didn't get done. He asked me to drop something by for you on my way home."

"Oh, so you're done for the day?" Christine asked, an idea springing to her mind. "You know, Erik also said not to hold dinner for him, and Mrs. Murphy cooked a huge pot-roast," she said, her tone a bit leading. "So…if you don't have any plans, would you care to join me?"

"I would love to, Christine," Mrs. Giry agreed, only too happy to stay and visit, as opposed to going home to an empty house.

"Wonderful! Why don't you make yourself comfortable in the sunroom, while I go tell Mrs. Murphy there'll be two for dinner after all." And off she went, happy as a clam.

.

.

When she returned, the two women took a seat on the sofa, easing into a nice visit. When the conversation turned to Erik's plans for the following day, Christine gave a visible shudder.

"I really wish he wasn't so dead set on this interview thing," the younger girl moaned. "I'm so nervous about all this, I just know I'm going to freeze up."

"Don't worry, Mr. Thorn will be there the whole time, as will I, so you have nothing to worry about," Antoinette assured her "As for what you should say…well, simply tell the truth, but try to put a fun little spin on things."

"What do you mean?" Christine asked.

"Well, how did the two of you meet?" she questioned.

"At a restaurant, I was his waitress," Christine replied.

"There you go, that's no lie…but if you want to dress it up a bit, add in some small details that you think the reporters might get a kick out of. If you appear _willing_ to offer up tidbits like that, they are less likely to assume you're hiding something."

"Small details? Like the fact that each time he came in, Erik always asked for the same thing…the special of the day and a glass of water, with ice?" Christine said after a moment of thought.

"Exactly!" Antoinette laughed. "If you clam up and say nothing but the bare facts, they'll dig deeper to get stuff out of you. But if you're open and talkative, you'll win them over. Just don't say anything that might be embarrassing to Mr. Thorn…nothing damaging to his reputation or business."

"Erik already pointed out that I know so little about both that I could hardly get in too much trouble," she said with a sigh. "I'll think on it tonight, thanks for the ideas though."

"It's my pleasure," the dark haired lady assured her. "It's also my pleasure to drop these by at Mr. Thorn's insistence. He thought you might like to see them right away." Here she handed Christine the envelope she had brought in with her, watching as the girl's eyes lit up with delight at the sight of them.

"These turned out wonderful, Antoinette," she gushed, leafing through them with a smile on her face. "Your camera must be high quality."

"Only the best at Phantom Industries," she stated, rattling off the words as if they had been ingrained in her. "I took the liberty of printing up the one I figured Mr. Thorn would like the best, and it's now sitting on his desk in a place of honor."

"Which one is that?" Christine wanted to know, holding them out so that Antoinette could point to it. "Hmmm, I must say, that one seems the best to me as well, I think Erik is actually smiling a bit too."

"Will wonders never cease?" Antoinette laughed. "If you text me your choices, I will see that they are printed in the size you want."

"Oh…I'll want one for my father's room at Leathwood," she began, rattling off her ideas. "One to put on the wall, and maybe even one on the dresser in our room. But I'll have to think about which ones those should be."

"Take your time," Mrs. Giry assured her. "There's no rush."

Christine was still looking at the photos, examining each one carefully to see if anyone blinked or had an odd expression on their face, when she suddenly noticed something very strange.

"Amir!" she squeaked, pointing her finger at something in the background of the group shot. "Look…it's Mr. Dessan! He's up there on the balcony, watching us."

"Yes, that would be his job, now wouldn't it?" Antoinette said, her voice changing just a bit at the mention of his name. "Wherever Mr. Thorn goes…Mr. Dessan is never far behind."

"They do seem rather… _committed_ to each other," Christine chuckled, finding humor in the way that sounded. "Or maybe _inherently loyal_ would be a better description."

"I think so," Antoinette said with wide grin.

"Hey, I've got an idea," Christine said, picking up her phone and hitting the speed dial for Amir. "I'll ask _him_ to dinner too!"

Antoinette made a move to protest, but Christine didn't notice, already waiting for the Persian man to answer.

.

.

Amir reached over the messy kitchen counter and grabbed his phone, answering it quickly when he saw that it was Christine. He had taken note that Antoinette had just arrived, having seen her car coming up the driveway on the video surveillance system he continuously monitored, but he didn't imagine that she was calling him about that.

"Christine? Is everything all right?" he asked, a touch of worry in his tone.

"Perfectly fine…except for one thing," she informed him, her happy voice allaying much of his fears. "Mrs. Murphy cooked a huge dinner, and even though Antoinette kindly agreed to stay and eat with me, there'll still be a ton of leftovers if you don't come and help us finish it all off."

"I don't know," Amir hesitated, not sure how Erik would feel about him having a meal with his wife. The man was rather unpredictable where Christine was concerned.

"Oh, come on…it's pot-roast," she said in an effort to tempt him.

Amir looked down at the frozen Hungry Man dinner in his hand, imagining how much better Mrs. Murphy's home cooked meal would taste than chicken fried steak, mixed vegetables, and a microscopic brownie for desert. Besides…hadn't Christine just said that _Antoinette_ would be joining them? Well, he was not about to pass up an evening with her!

"I'll be right over," he agreed, hanging up the phone as he tossed the TV dinner back into the freezer.

.

.

"There, I knew telling him what we were having would be the clincher," Christine laughed as she set her phone on the coffee table. "The way to a man's heart is always through his stomach."

"If you say so," Antoinette nodded, looking downward as her cheeks took on a rosy hue.

Christine took note of the woman's change in demeanor, but chose not to comment about it. Yet, what had caused the usually unflappable Mrs. Giry to suddenly act like this? Perhaps spending the evening together would afford Christine the answers.

.

.

Dinner had been delicious, and Amir seemed to enjoy himself immensely, his fine humor and witty conversation keeping the two women in stitches.

"You're joking!" Christine gasped, holding her stomach, which now hurt so much from laughing. "Erik actually tried Guitar Hero?"

"He most certainly did," the Persian insisted. "I mean, I got it for him purely as a joke, but I swear, after several glasses of some very fine Scotch, Erik was up and rocking out like he was from a hard-core eighties band!"

"Oh, I would have given up all my vacation days to have seen that!" Antoinette said, unable to stop the tears that were now pouring from her eyes at the very idea.

"But this stays just between the three of us, understand?" Amir said firmly. "He would kill me dead if he ever found out I told anyone. And he was so wasted that night, that to this day I don't think he even remembers doing it. I really wish I had thought to pull out my phone and video it all. Talk about some primo blackmail footage."

"Your secret is safe with us," Christine promised him, taking her finger and making an X over her heart for good measure.

"Yes, not a word, we swear," Antoinette agreed, wiping her eyes.

"Well, I hate to leave two beautiful ladies in tears, but I better go make my rounds once more before Erik gets home," Amir stated, rising from his chair and placing his napkin on his empty plate. He then downed the last bit of his wine and gave them both a wave as he headed for the door. "Thanks for the dinner, Christine. And please drive home safely, Mrs. Giry," he added, looking directly at her, just before exiting the room.

"Well, I must say, he is always good for a laugh," Christine commented as she stood up and moved to clear their desert dishes. She had told Mrs. Murphy to go home when it appeared that they would be occupying the dining room for a bit longer, not wanting her to remain simply to clean up and do the dishes.

"Let me help with that," the dark haired lady insisted, grabbing the few items Christine had been unable to carry.

"Thanks," she smiled, the two heading for the kitchen. "Do you want some coffee?" Christine had noticed that Antoinette had passed on the glass of wine she had been offered, and had stuck to drinking water all evening.

"Oh, no, not this late in the evening," she chuckled. "I wouldn't sleep a wink."

"True…and I don't know if we have any decaf either," Christine hummed thoughtfully as they loaded the dishwasher and hit start.

"I'm fine, really," she smiled. "And I had a very pleasant evening. Thank you for saving me from a quiet night at home alone."

"Alone? Where's Meg tonight?" Christine asked, just realizing she had not inquired about her friend's whereabouts all evening.

"At the ballet with friends," she informed her as they each took seats around the kitchen table. "And even when she _is_ home, cooking for her is hard. She is always watching her weight, so it was nice to have some real food for a change and not another salad with low-fat dressing."

"Yep, I'm glad I'm a singer, not a dancer," the brunette laughed. "Although, I was foolish enough to ask Meg to help me with some choreography for my skit. She's determined to have me whipped into shape within a week."

"Oh, you poor thing!" Antoinette moaned. "Do you want me to speak to her about it?"

"No…I probably need the push," Christine said, waving her off. "I do wish to do well on the program, and I could use all the help I can get."

"Well, I trust that Mr. Thorn will see that you receive everything you need to do just that," she told her, the dark-haired woman appearing rather subdued all of the sudden. "It must be nice having a man in your life that you can always count on."

"Antoinette," Christine said in a sympathetic voice, reaching out to lay her hand over hers where it rested on the table. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, really," she said, giving her a rather pathetic smile. "It's nothing."

"It doesn't seem that way to me," Christine argued. "And if you don't mind me saying so…I kind of think it has something to do with Amir."

"What? No, of course not!" Antoinette denied. "Why would you say that?"

"Well…for one thing, your demeanor changed dramatically when he arrived," she began, ticking off the reasons on her fingers. "Then I noticed you never touched the wine tonight, perhaps because you needed to keep your wits about you around him? And while I will agree that Amir is a funny man, even I wouldn't have laughed that loudly at most of his jokes. Not to mention the fact that the two of you couldn't keep your eyes off each other all night."

"That's not true!" the very proper lady stated firmly, sounding aghast at the very idea. Then she got a hopeful look on her face. "Do you _really_ think he was looking at me all night?"

"Like you were a delicious piece of fruit he wanted to pick," Christine laughed, watching as Antoinette's face turned red in embarrassment. "Now, fess up…you're warm for his form."

"Now you sound like Meg!" she scolded.

"Oh? Does she know you like him too?" Christine pressed.

"No! That's not what I meant," Antoinette gasped. "Meg knows nothing about…about…well, my feelings. You were just using the type of speech she does so often that leaves me utterly confused."

"So…what _are_ your feelings for Amir?" Christine questioned. "Have you ever told him you'd like to get to know him better?"

"No, and I don't intend to either." Now her face grew grim. "Besides, why would he want me, knowing all he does about my background?"

"Oh, please, we all have a history," Christine scoffed. "How bad could it be, it's not like you were a drug dealer or a prostitute, right?" When Antoinette looked away, embarrassment written all over her face, Christine gasped in shock. "Oh, I'm so sorry…I didn't mean…that is, I never…"

"No, it's not that, I mean I didn't do either of _those_ things," she quickly assured the distressed girl. "But…I came very close. Still, the story of my past is nearly just as bad, trust me. And the worst part is, Amir is fully aware of every sordid detail."

"Do…do you want to talk about it?" Christine offered, reaching out and taking hold of her hand once more in a comforting gesture. "I promise to listen and not judge. After all, I married a man I hardly knew just because he could pay my father's medical bills. So, _I'm_ certainly not one to talk."

"Thank you for understanding, Christine," Antoinette sniffed. "And…and it would be nice to get this all off my chest. I've been carrying it around for over ten years now, with no one to talk to." She stared over at Christine, working up the nerve to speak, until at last she could hold it in no longer. "It all began about the time that Meg was born…"

* * *

 **Oh dear...is that a cliff I see you hanging on there? Shame on me. ha ha.**

 **Well now, Christine has at last got a taste of Erik's voice...and she loves it! Oh the things he could do to her if only he realized how much she loved hearing him sing.**

 **WEDDING PHOTOS! Oh, what fun. Antoinette was so nice to print him one for his desk. She knows him far too well.**

 **Well, well, well, Do I smell a romance brewing between Antoinette and Amir? But why do they seem hesitant to tell each other about their attraction?**

 **So, what is Mrs. Giry's story? It's apparently something she's ashamed of and that Amir knows in great detail. And come Monday, you will know all about it too!**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest:** The reporters were not 'on campus', they were hiding by the entrance where Gerald parks to pick her up. I'm sure they figured the fancy limo was for her. Yep, that hundred dollar bill is like a recurring guest on a sit com! ha ha. I think this little interview Erik is planning is all he's gunna get Christine to do...and she's not even happy about THAT! So no Today Show for her. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Gummy:** Good, I don't want anyone worried for Christine's safety...well, not where Erik is concerned anyway. But Erik does not have Amir following her around for nothing every day, you know. He has enemies. Ha ha, that would have been funny if the actor was dancing the ballet behind the curtain and didn't realize the audience could see him. ha ha. Yes, "O.G. was here...beware!" sounds like something Erik would write jut to freak people out. He really has a fine sense of humor...it's dark and dry, but it's there. ha ha. Thanks

 **Guest:** Well, that's the idea...you're not supposed to see the Paparazzi coming! ha ha. They're sneaky that way. Don't spend too much time worrying about those two singers...they are not Raoul and Carlotta. ha ha. Boy, wouldn't that be a kick in the head. ha ha. Thanks

 **Kristin:** Probably...although sometimes Erik might win twice in a row and Amir has to fork over a new bill...but then he would win three times next and Erik would be required to get another bill out of the bank, ha ha. But mostly it's the same bill. I love that idea. Christine is getting to feel more confident as time goes on, she is the 'new kid' in school, so she feels a bit out of place. Daddy Daae will be back in the picture soon, and OF COURSE he will be coming to the concert, Erik wouldn't let him miss it! Erik's thoughtful that way.

 **Guest C** : **(for chap. 25)** Well, it wasn't like she went looking for a test...it was just in the magazine she was reading so, why not give it a try. ha ha. Nope, no way in he world he would ever harm one hair on her head. They do empathies with each other very nicely...both having sad events in their past...Erik's more than her. I just wanted to make sure no one got any wrong ideas, I would never want to offend anyone with my stories. Glad you are enjoying it! **(for chap. 26)** Well, Meg is the dancer, where Christine is the singer, so she would need some help with a few of her steps. ha ha. Meg and Christine will be very good friends, for sure. I might have been jumping the gun with them giving her a part like that so soon, but hey, it's my story and I can do what I want, right? ha ha. No way...Carlotta did NOT get into Juillard...they have standards! ha ha. And Raoul is not one of the singers either, so no worries there. The reporters were NOT very nice, were they? They just wanted a story, it didn't matter if the facts were true. Amir and Gerald were heroes for sure. What great guys. I think they are very devoted to her by now. The fun interview will be coming soon...and Erik will most assuredly be in control! You just read and review whenever you have time! I'm tickled either way. Thanks


	28. Chapter 28

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 **Guest S:** Yes, I couldn't help but make Erik get sick after all he said about how he NEVER gets sick. ha ha. He might have a lot of stamina, but bacteria will get us all in the end. ha ha. He WAS pretty happy about that chest rub...until she saw his scar. Yep, Christine got Gerald's last name out of Erik after all. Amir is soooo sassy, I just love him. And yep, Erik is crying in his soup over having to put up with Christine as his nurse and not Amir *rolls eyes sarcastically* I am glad you are enjoying the pacing, I really didn't want her to just fall for him in like a day or two. I wanted to make this more realistic...even if it is fan fiction. ha ha. She is making friends, but I wanted her to eat with Amir...otherwise I think he would be very bored and lonely. And you are using a lot of nice words to describe my fic, so thanks for that! Yes, both Amir and Erik have things to chit chat about. Making her sit on the bench behind him AND that cute little outfit too. Ok, you can remain a guest and I will keep writing, ha ha. Erik would have to pay a therapist overtime. Shhhhh, don't tell Erik he can't make flowers grow by sheer will. He thinks he can. They are starting to warm up to each other, right...well, we know Erik is already hot for her, but she needs to catch up with him. Erik and Amir ARE pretty special, they are just like brothers, though they will never admit it. Mrs. Murphy is the smartest one of the bunch, that's for sure. And Amir and Gerald are so brave and heroic. Erik can speak several languages, but you know him, he doesn't like to brag...oh, wait..yes he does. ha ha. Thanks, I am enjoying your reviews very much. Keep them coming!

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 **Chapter 28**

 **~X~**

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"It all began about the time that Meg was born," Antoinette began in a despondent voice. "I got married right out of high school, thinking that love was all we needed to build that perfect life. I believed that Roger and I had a good marriage and that he was a decent man, but I'd been so busy with my own life and activities, that I never noticed what he had been up to. You see, I started law school not long after we wed, so between night classes, as well as working as a secretary during the day, we saw so little of each other. Then I got pregnant, and after Meg was born I had to put my schooling on hold, just a few credits short of completion, to become a stay at home mother. That's when I discovered Roger's affinity for gambling."

"As in cards?" Christine asked, picturing some seedy backroom of a bar.

"Cards, horse races, sports, video lottery, casinos…you name it, he bet on it," she said with a heavy sigh. "At first he only placed small wagers, so that when he lost it wasn't too difficult to hide. But as his addiction grew, so did his willingness to risk more and more of our savings…until it was completely gone. The day I went shopping for diapers, and the store wouldn't take my check, well, that was when I began to investigate. Only to find we weren't just broke, we were heavily in debt."

"Oh, Antoinette, I'm so sorry," Christine knew that feeling well, the overwhelming pressure that could put on a person, not knowing how they would pay for the necessities of life.

"I was too, and without any family in town to help with Meg, I couldn't go back to work, or continue my classes in order to get a better job," she explained. "I confronted him, and he swore he would change, that he would get help, but he never did. Years went by, and we bounced from deep in debt, to living well, so many times I swore I was going to get whiplash. Still, he wouldn't stop…he was completely addicted, and no amount of pleading or threatening seemed to help. I considered leaving him, but I didn't want to do that to Meg. She was the innocent one in all this, she deserved both of her parents, and Roger wasn't a bad father…just a man with an addiction. I suppose I was just happy it wasn't drinking or drugs he was into, but it ruined our lives all the same."

"What _did_ you do?" Christine asked, recalling how Meg had said that her father had just one day disappeared.

"Nothing for a long time," Antoinette continued. "Not until things got really, really bad. It appeared that we'd hit rock bottom, both in finances and our marriage. We were living in a small one bedroom apartment, relegating Meg, who was around nine years old by then, to sleeping on the pull-out couch in the living room. It was noisy, smelly, and in the worst neighborhood you could imagine…but it was all we could afford, and only just barely. Roger had guilted me into going to some of the parties his gambling buddies often threw, so I had become acquainted with several of their wives or girlfriends. I knew that my husband no longer cared for me the way he once did, but until then, I still thought he was at least a decent man. Oh, how wrong I was!"

When Antoinette stopped there and looked down at her hands, Christine reached over and pulled a few tissues out of the nearby Kleenex box and handed them to her.

"Thank you," the dark-haired woman said, using them to dab at her now moist eyes.

"If you don't feel like going on, I would understand…really," Christine assured her, dying to know, but not wanting to torment the woman by making her continue.

"No…I want to tell you, really I do," she assured her, taking a deep breath as she went on. "Roger had gone out one night without telling me where, which was not unusual, and I honestly no longer cared. But apparently he made some very bad bets, ones that cost him more money than he had, or could ever hope to get, within the time allotted for him to pay up. And the man he now owed were not the kind who would take an IOU or wait patiently to be compensated. He threatened to break one bone in his body for every thousand dollars Roger owed…and he owed a great deal. So, in order to save his own skin, he…" here she stopped and shut her eyes, as if steeling herself to go on. "…he offered up me instead."

"HE WHAT?" Christine was aghast. How could he? "He would allow you to be harmed in his place?"

"No…I wasn't to take his place _that_ way," she clarified, almost looking as if she would have preferred that. "Roger offered the man my services for the night, and I don't mean doing legal work."

"Oh, Antoinette! That's horrible!" Christine now wished this man was still around, so she could punch him in the nose for the things he had done.

"I agree," she nodded, looking both ashamed and angry. "Thankfully, the girlfriend of one of the other gamblers slipped away and called me, warning me to get out of our apartment before they came to collect. I'm ashamed to admit that for a moment I considered going through with it, just to save my husband from all that pain. Yet, all I could think of was Meg. This was no kind of life for her, living hand to mouth in a place that no self-respecting rat would call home. And if Roger was now willing to sell his own wife into prostitution…I feared that Meg might be next."

"But…she was only a child!" Christine gasped. "Surely he wouldn't?"

"I wasn't about to take that chance," she stated, her usual look of self-confidence returning to her face. "So I grabbed only what we could carry and ran out the door, finding a place for us at a woman's shelter, and did my best to stay hidden from Roger. I don't know how he got out of the jam he'd been in, or perhaps he had simply bought some time, but I found out he was searching for us. I was at my wits end, I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to, and I was never going to return to Roger and the life he had created for us. And that's when I heard about a man who might be able to help me."

"Amir?" Christine guessed, since she had originally said that the Persian knew all about her past.

"No…Erik Thorn," she corrected. "He wasn't exactly the respectable business man then that he is now. And let's just say he had a reputation for getting things done that were not always… _above board._ But I was desperate, and determined to protect my daughter at all costs. So I contacted him, explained my problem, and he agreed to meet with me. Well, it turned out that Amir was his front man, so I met with him instead, and though I had nothing to offer monetarily, he said they would take care of things in exchange for a favor."

"A favor?" This confused Christine. "What kind of favor?"

"I had no idea, but I figured it couldn't be any worse than what Roger had originally wanted me to do. And when Amir returned three days later, saying that I no longer needed to worry about my husband, his associates, or any debts he might have left behind, I honestly didn't care anymore what I had to do. I was free and my daughter was safe, that's all that mattered. It was like a whole new world had just opened up to me." Here her tone and countenance seemed to brighten. "I spent the next year getting my life back, until I was able to afford a decent place for myself and Meg, and even managed to go back and finish my schooling so I could take the Bar exams. I had just begun applying for positions at law firms when I got a call asking me to come to the main office of the newly built Phantom Industries. Well, I was shocked. I knew of no one who worked there, but I was not about to ignore such a prestigious summons. Yet when I arrived, I suddenly knew the time had come to pay back that favor I had promised to give."

"Did Erik blackmail you into working for him?" Christine questioned, thinking to herself that it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibilities.

"No, he did not threaten or coerce me in any way," she said with a bit of a laugh. "He simply offered me a job…a very lucrative job in fact, as his legal counsel. Something completely unheard of for someone who had just graduated from law school. Granted, I knew that the favor I owed him would more than likely mean I would have to handle some rather… _unorthodox cases_ , but I can honestly say that in all the time I've worked for Mr. Thorn, I've never had to do anything I felt was unethical." She then gave Christine a guilty look. "Except when he came to me nearly a month ago and had me write up the contract _you_ signed. I swear that I did try and talk him out of it, but he would not be swayed. You know, I have to say, when you stormed out that first time, shouting at him the way you did, it was rather exhilarating. No one has ever talked to Mr. Thorn that way…I was very proud of you."

"Until I came crawling back with my tail between my legs, that is," Christine said with a look of embarrassment.

"No, not at all!" Antoinette stated. "You came back for a very good reason. I told you back then what you did for your father was both brave and selfless. Not too many these days would do the same. And you've been very good for him, Christine, truly. I think he's mellowed…softened a bit, you might say. I only hope that you are content as well. That you are happy with the choice you made."

"My father is at Leathwood, receiving the treatments necessary to get him walking and talking again," she pointed out with a wide smile. "How can I not be happy about that? As for being Erik's wife…well, it's not easy, but I would hardly call it a burden. He is attentive, kind, generous…" Here she stopped and gave a laugh. "And demanding, stubborn, and easily riled. But hey, no one's perfect."

"You can say that again," Antoinette chuckled, covering her lips with her hands. "But it appears you are making the best of things."

"I'm trying," she nodded firmly. "No sense in crying over spilt milk. Just call in the cat and let him have a ball!"

"You truly are a breath of fresh air," the older woman told her with a warm smile. "I'm glad Meg has you as a friend, you two are cut from the same cloth. Always looking on the bright side of things."

"But what happened to your husband?" Christine asked, still a bit unsure how the story ended. "Did you ever learn where he went?"

"No…and honestly, I don't want to know," Antoinette assured her. "Mr. Thorn and I do not discuss it, and I have never tried to find out. After the required amount of time, I got a non-contested divorce, and left that part of my life behind me. I did keep his last name, simply because it was Meg's as well, and I didn't want to complicate her life any more than it already was. But we've been doing very well on our own, and working for Phantom Industries has afforded me the ability to take care of my daughter the way she deserves. Mr. Thorn even pulled some strings and got her an audition for Juilliard. And while she got in on her own merit, he put in a good word and got her a few scholarships, as well as picks up the tab for the rest of her tuition. I truly owe your husband a great deal."

"And what about Amir?" Christine pressed.

"I guess I've been attracted to him from the beginning," she confessed. "I was a wreck back then, having been very disillusioned by marriage and men in general, but the moment I spoke to him, I felt my heart leap for the first time in years. He just exudes a sense of trust and compassion, something I was in great need of back then. Still, he not only knows all the details of my humiliating past, but he works for Mr. Thorn, and I'm not sure it would be wise to mix business with pleasure. Besides, I don't think I'm fancy enough to catch Amir's eye. You should see some of the gorgeous women he's dated over the past ten years."

"He is rather good looking, isn't he?" Christine admitted, thinking that even when _she_ first saw him at Leathwood, sitting in the waiting room, she had thought him rather striking. "But Antoinette, you're a knock out! Amir would be blind not to notice you. And I caught him checking you out more than once tonight during dinner."

"Do…do you really think so?" Her voice was hopeful, but her face still wore a skeptical look. "But, if he's truly interested, why has he never made a move…or asked me out?"

"He could be thinking the same way you are," Christine suggested. "That you two work for Erik…or that you might not approve of _his_ past either. Not that I know anything about that, since he and Erik are masters at keeping secrets! I still don't know how the two of them even met."

"And don't expect that to change much either," Antoinette said with a sigh of frustration. "The amount of information I know about Mr. Thorn's past could fit on the head of a pin."

"Oh, Erik's opening up, little by little," Christine said, sounding rather pleased. "He's a tough nut to crack…but I'll figure him out in time."

"Well, I wish you the best of luck…but be careful," Antoinette warned. She then looked at her watch, noticing the time. "I really do need to be going. But I want to thank you so very much for listening to my long and sad tale of woe. I've never spoken of this to anyone since it happened…not even Meg."

"I'm honored that you trusted me with such a secret," she told her, once more reaching out and squeezing her hand. "But consider telling Meg the whole story. She's not a child any more, and it really bothers her that she doesn't know what happened."

"Did she say that?" Now it was Antoinette's turn to gasp in shock. "She told you about her father?"

"Well…everything she knows, which isn't much," Christine confessed. "Trust her with this, confide in her. I know she won't let you down."

"I…I'll think about it," she nodded, standing up and giving the younger girl a grateful hug. "Just telling you has been very therapeutic. But I do ask that you don't mention any of this to Mr. Thorn. I don't want him to think I crossed any lines concerning confidentiality."

"Your secret is safe with me," Christine promised. "My lips are sealed."

"And you won't go telling Amir I'm attracted to him either, will you?" she pressed.

"Not unless you want me to…which I will gladly do," Christine offered with a wide grin. "I could play cupid for the two of you!"

"Let me think on that," Antoinette laughed as they walked to the door. "Good night, Christine."

"Drive safe, and see you soon!" she said, watching as the dark-haired lady got in her car and drove away. "Well now, _that_ was certainly an eye-opening chat," Christine mumbled to herself as she shut the door and headed upstairs, deciding to crawl into bed and do some reading until Erik got home.

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It was nearly eleven when Erik at last drove into the garage, parked the car and slowly made his way into the house. Everything was quiet, and he guessed that Christine had already gone to bed. As he climbed the stairs, he rubbed his tired eyes, doing his best not to dislodge his mask in the process. It had been a very long day, and tomorrow wouldn't prove any shorter. Still, Erik had arranged everything to his specifications, and if it stopped those vultures from bothering Christine any further, it was all worth it.

Erik was surprised to see a light peeking out from under the door as he approached, signaling to him that perhaps Christine was still awake. Carefully, he turned the handle and peeked in, seeing his darling wife propped up in bed reading a book. He must have made some kind of sound, for she instantly lowered the paperback and gave him an inviting smile.

"You're home at last," she said, watching as he stepped inside, looking a bit worse for wear. "I was beginning to wonder if you planned on sleeping at your office. You did say you kept your apartment there."

"I would never forgo an opportunity to return home to you, Christine," he informed her, coming around the bed as he laid his jacket down and began to remove his tie. "And I do apologize for missing our music practice tonight, I simply didn't wish to leave any unfinished business when we have such a full schedule tomorrow."

"Oh, right…the interview," she mumbled, not appearing very happy about it.

"It will be fine, Christine, trust me," he told her, noting the displeasure in her voice. "You have nothing to worry about."

"Only making a fool of myself…again," she huffed.

"I will be right there beside you. There is no need to be concerned." He then picked up his coat and tie, heading into his walk-in closet to hang them up.

Christine was still not very confident, but knowing that she had no choice in the matter, she decided to take Antoinette's advice and do her best to tell the truth…with flair. She went to close her book, but realized that she had no book marker, and she was not about to dog-ear the pages.

"Erik?" she called, sitting up and looking around for something to mark her place. "Do you have a piece of paper I could borrow?"

"In my nightstand I believe," came his distracted reply, the sound of hangers and the bustle of clothes telling her he had his hands full.

Leaning over the bed, she pulled on his drawer, opening it and peering in. She saw a tablet and picked it up, thinking she could just rip a piece of paper off to use.

"Thanks, I found a tablet," she called. "I'll only use one piece." Yet the moment she turned it over, Christine saw something she was not terribly certain Erik had meant to share with her. Apparently she was right, for just then Erik gave a bit of a shout as he hurried back inside the room, a look of panic in his eyes.

"NO! Wait!" he cried, his hand coming up in an effort to halt her actions, but he could see that it was too late. Christine has seen his list!

"What's this?" she questioned, eyeing it curiously, not quite understanding everything written there.

"Nothing! Do not look at it!" he all but begged, reaching for the tablet, but Christine pulled her hand back, not allowing him to retrieve it.

"Nothing, you say? Then why is _my_ name written all over what appears to be some kind of check list?" Her eyebrows came together in confusion as she read a few of the items out loud. " _Have breakfast with Christine. Share dinner with Christine. Joke around with her. Watch television as a couple. Go out to dinner at a nice restaurant. Text back and forth. Hold Christine's hand during a walk. Kiss her goodbye as I leave for work."_

That was the last one she got to read, for Erik lunged forward and snatched it from her at that point. His face was a bit red…or at least what she could see of it, the white mask causing his embarrassment to stand out even more.

"I said, it was nothing!" he growled, but Christine could tell it was from shame, not anger.

"Erik," Christine said, sitting there in bed with her hands now in her lap, looking at him in all seriousness. "Remember what I said? That we can only grow closer if we open up and talk to one another? I understand there are certain things you are unable to discuss with me, but since that had my name written all over it, I would think it wouldn't fall under _that_ category. What is that, Erik?"

He stood there staring at her for another few moments, as if debating whether he should give in or simply run. In the end, his shoulders slumped and he took a few steps forward, easing himself down to sit on the end of the bed.

"It…it is a list," he began, not lifting his eyes to look at her.

"I can see that," she told him softly, doing her best not to spook him. "A list of what? And why are some of them crossed out, while others are not?"

"It's a list of things that any normal husband would get to do with his wife," he explained, still sounding rather humiliated. "I've been keeping track…and marking them off as I go."

"Oh," was all she found she could say in response to that utterly heartbreaking and adorable confession. She had figured out that Erik was obsessed with being normal, by activities that any regular person took for granted. Yet to see those things spelled out on a list made her heart melt just a little bit. And to think that he had been able to cross off a few already, made her very happy.

"Foolish…I know," he told her with a heavy sigh.

"No, not at all," Christine assured him, once more leaning forward and placing her hand on his arm. "I think it's rather sweet… _really_."

"You do?" Erik sounded shocked by this.

"Of course. It makes me happy that you find pleasure in doing things with me," Christine continued. "We are, after all, married…so I don't think that list is silly at all." She inched a bit closer, craning her head in hopes of seeing the tablet once more. "What else do you have written down there?" But Erik quickly pulled it to his chest, not allowing her a peek.

"It wouldn't count if you knew," he explained. "They should come naturally…not because you feel obligated to fulfill my list."

"I see," she said with a little grin. "And that makes perfect sense. We need to let things progress at a natural pace, not rush them too quickly, right?"

 _Well I wouldn't mind if certain activities moved at a faster pace,_ he thought to himself. Yet he wisely kept that idea inside his head, not speaking it out loud.

"Right," he instead agreed. "And…you truly don't think I'm strange for keeping such a list?"

"Oh, I think you're strange all right," she laughed, enjoying the look of humor that touched his eyes as well. "Just as I'm sure you think I'm rather odd at times. But it has nothing to do with you keeping a list of things you would like to see us do. And I promise not to ask what's written there, or peek when you are not home. I'll be good."

"I have no doubt about your goodness, Christine," Erik told her, a relieved smile on his face by her words of guarantee. "And I thank you for allowing me this secret."

"No problem," she said with a little shrug of her shoulders. "I won't look at your little list, just as long as you promise not to read _my_ diary." At this she closed her book, no longer caring if she lost her place, and set it on the nightstand, before rolling over and lying down.

"Your what?" Erik asked, suddenly very interested in what she had said. _"You keep a diary?"_

"Good night Erik," she told him, glad that he could not see the wide grin on her face with her back to him.

"But… _a diary_?" he repeated. "Really?"

"Let it go, Erik," she giggled. "Good night."

He was quiet for a moment and then Christine heard Erik give a huff as he turned and headed into his washroom.

"You are teasing me, Christine. You do not keep a diary," he reasoned, sounding rather sure of himself.

"I guess you'll never know, will you?" she shot back, doing all she could to hold back her amusement.

"I see that I married someone who likes to keep her secrets, didn't I?" Erik told her, though even from where she lay, she could hear the amusement in his voice.

"Takes one to know one," Christine replied, seconds before the bathroom door shut. At that she finally let loose, the force of her laughter causing the whole bed to shake.

Oh, Erik was so easy to toy with!

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 **Sooooo, now we know the secret that Antoinette has been keeping about her x-husband. The jerk!**

 **And she likes Amir, does she? Well, I kind of think he likes her too.**

 **Awwwww, Erik keeps a list of things he wants to do with Christine! So sweet. He is just a big marshmallow.**

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Guest Reviews:

i promise to respond to all guest reviews at the end of the next chapter. Thanks in advance!


	29. Chapter 29

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 **And she's back home!**

 **I got all caught up on reviews and am posting right on schedule this morning.**

 **It's good to have things back to normal.**

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 **Chapter 29**

 **~X~**

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As Erik parked the car and came around to open the door for her, Christine couldn't wipe the smile off her face. That had been beyond thrilling! She had always wanted to ride in a Ferrari, and at last she could mark that off _her_ bucket list! Gerald had driven her to Juilliard that morning, dropping her off as he usually did, but once her classes were over, it was Erik who had come to fetch her. Taking her to Phantom Industries in his racy black sports car!

"Are you sure we can't just drive around the block a few more times?" she begged, stepping out of the car rather reluctantly.

"After the interview," he promised, chuckling at how much his little wife seemed to have enjoyed the ride. He understood the draw, for he too could think of nothing more thrilling than being in control of a magnificent machine such as this. Yet as he looked at Christine's wide eyes and flushed face, he supposed he could think of _one_ thing that was better. But Erik had promised her time…and he planned on giving her that, even if it killed him.

"Right…the interview," she said with a heavy sigh. Christine had been dreading it all day, but she supposed the one good thing about it was that it required her cutting her exhausting dance practice with Meg short. Her legs were still tingling a bit from the workout she had been put through, and now as they headed for the elevator, she worried that she might not make it there without collapsing. For a tiny girl, Meg was sure a tyrant when it came to dance!

They climbed into the elevator without saying a word, but as Christine watched Erik punch in a series of numbers, she gave him a curious look. Noticing this, he quickly explained.

"This allows me to bypass all the other floors, and takes the elevator right to the top floor," he told her. "It wouldn't do for the boss to have to stop at every floor and rub elbows with the other employees…would it?"

"If you wanted to be the kind of boss that your employees felt comfortable approaching, it would," she reasoned.

"Well that sounds horrible," Erik protested. "Why on earth would I ever want that?"

Christine couldn't help but laugh at his obvious distaste over the idea. Her husband was not really the social type, but she supposed that he had good reason not to be…given the fact that he wore a mask and all. But her smile quickly faded as the numbers on the elevator climb higher and higher. She had spent a long time contemplating Antoinette's words of counsel last night, as well as Erik's, and she only hoped what she came up with would suffice. Christine had never been comfortable speaking in front of an audience, or talking about herself, and now she was going to be required to do both. She looked up at Erik, who appeared unaffected by what was about to take place. He apparently did this kind of thing all the time, or maybe not, if what he'd implied about issuing gag orders on all the newspapers and magazines concerning him was true. Still, Erik most likely spoke to rooms full of big-wigs all the time, and this was just another day at the office for him.

However, that was not the case for her.

"Erik?" she asked, her voice shaking just a bit. "May I ask a favor?"

"Of course, Christine, what do you wish?" he responded, looking down at her with concern.

"I know this was on your list, and I'm not asking in order to allow you to cross it off," she began, feeling a bit foolish. "But would you please hold my hand?" When Erik stared at her in utter confusion, she quickly clarified. "Well…it might look better if we did so in front of the reporters, you see. Give the illusion that we are…in love." At that her face turned a bit red, but she forced herself to continue. "But most of all, I really could use a steady hand right about now, for I feel like I might faint."

In answer, Christine felt his hand slip around hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze as a bright smile graced his lips.

"I would be honored to hold your hand and offer you support, my brave little wife," he told her, his voice husky with emotion. And just as the bell sounded, indicating they had reached their floor, he leaned over and whispered into her ear. "And I say it still counts, thus I plan on marking it off my list the moment we get home."

This caused Christine to give a snort of laughter, easing her tension just a bit as they stepped out and headed for the glass doors that led to the waiting area. Elizabeth was sitting at the front desk, yet rose to her feet the moment they came through the door.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Thorn," she greeted them as they entered. "And you are looking lovely today, Mrs. Thorn."

"Thank you…Elizabeth, wasn't it?" she said, doing her best to recall the woman's name.

"Yes," she returned with a wide smile.

Antoinette was there as well, and came directly over and fell into step as they crossed towards the door to the conference room.

"They are all here and waiting," she informed him, her tone all business. "As you stipulated, I confiscated all recording devices and cameras, telling them that there will be a brief opportunity for photos after the interview. I have also briefed them on what questions were, and were not, allowed. Stressing the importance of not overstepping their bounds or risk being tossed out on their ear."

"Very good," Erik nodded, only half listening, for the feel of Christine's hand in his was very distracting.

"Don't worry, Christine," Antoinette next told the nervous looking girl. "Just remember what I said and you'll do just fine."

"Of course she will," Erik said in a confident tone. "She's Christine Thorn, isn't she?"

"Well, right now I feel more like Joan of Arc…about to be burned at the stake," Christine countered, gripping his hand even tighter. "But we might as well get this over with. Bring on the fire"

Erik couldn't help but chuckle at her analogy, doing his best to imagine her in a suit of armor, a bobbed haircut, and holding up a sword. Oddly enough, he found it wasn't terribly displeasing to him.

"Right this way," Antoinette indicated, taking hold of the door and swinging it open, allowing Erik and Christine to enter, her hand still locked in his.

There were more reporters than she imagined there would be, with some sitting in the chairs surrounding the large conference table, as well as a few others standing around, or leaning against the walls. Yet the moment they arrived, everyone turned and stared right at her, making Christine tremble with over-active nerves. Oh, heaven help her.

"I have been informed that you have all been instructed on the type of questions that will effectively get you ejected from this room. I suggest you remember that, as well as your manners when addressing my wife," Erik sternly told them as he pulled out a chair, assisting Christine to sit, before taking the seat next to her. Antoinette remained standing by the door, acting as a stern sentinel, making sure things ran smoothly.

"Now, if you are all clear on the rules…you may begin with your questions," Erik offered, extending his hand towards the group. When everyone began at once, he called for them to halt. "No one could possibly respond when spoken to like that. One at a time, please."

This time it was a bit less chaotic, making Christine give a sigh of relief. And thankfully as they went around the room, the questions began rather easily. _What was her full name, where she was born, describe her educational history, what classes she was taking at Juilliard_ , and so on. She answered each one honestly and without much difficulty, but soon, just as she feared, things quickly turned more personal.

"Tell me, Mrs. Thorn, is it true that your father is very ill and resides in a care facility just outside of town?" a tall man asked, as all eyes instantly turned to her in anxious curiosity.

"Yes…that is true," she nodded, clearing her throat as she went on, trying to do as Antoinette said and offer up as many benign details as she could. "He is suffering from a mutated strain of what the doctors call CIDP, or chronic inflammatory demyelinating polyneuropathy." Christine was rather proud of herself for having pronounced such difficult words correctly, watching as everyone scrambled to write what she had said down in their note pads. "It is a highly unpublicized condition, and I'm told that many times it will go undiagnosed due to the fact that many of the symptoms mimic that of other ailments. My father was one of those who slipped through the cracks, ending up in a near catatonic state simply because no one could figure out what had happened to him. Yet, they tell me that he is currently responding to the medication and will hopefully make a full recovery."

"And he was a violinist at the Met?" the next reporter asked.

"An _excellent_ violinist," Christine corrected, her face breaking out into a proud smile. "He held the lead chair in his section for many years, having to step down only due to his illness. It is my dream to see him return to his former glory."

"Do you intend to pursue a career in music, or theater, Mrs. Thorn?" came the next question from a delicate looking woman with dark eye makeup.

"I intend to see how my classes at Juilliard go before I make any decisions about a future career," she replied.

"Yet, I do assure you, that if my wife wishes to perform on stage, she has not only the talent, but my full and complete backing," Erik added, having kept mostly silent the whole time. He had been enjoying himself very much, hoping that everyone there could see exactly how amazing his Christine truly was. The fact that she was answering their questions so calmly only further proved to him that she was destined for greatness. For if she could perform under these conditions, she would take the world by storm.

"Can you tell us, Mrs. Thorn…when and how did you meet your husband?" This was asked by a short little man with a hairpiece…something that was fooling no one. "This all came upon very suddenly, don't you agree?"

"No…not at all," she told him, sitting up a bit straighter as she prepared to defend herself. "You might think so, since we kept our relationship a secret in order to avoid the publicity, but Erik and I were very familiar with each other by the time we chose to wed." Here she felt a smidge guilty, for in truth it was only Erik who knew her on an intimate level, having apparently had her followed and looked into her financial situation. Still, it _was_ the truth…since Christine figured that she knew him as well as anyone did. "As for where we met, it was at a restaurant, where I was working as a singing waitress. Erik came in, had dinner, we spoke a bit, and after my performance he left me a very interesting note. He came in each night after that and as they say…the rest is history." Here Christine dared to give Erik a quick glance, wishing to see if her retelling of the events met with his approval. They apparently did, for he was smiling fondly down at her.

"Christine quite literally swept me off my feet," he told the group. "I was instantly drawn to her personality and her fine voice. The fact that she also looks like an angel, is simply a bonus."

His words caused Christine to blush, not sure if he was speaking the truth, or just laying it on thick for the reporters, still, it was very flattering to hear.

"Now, Mrs. Thorn," a rather catty looking woman spoke up next, aiming her pen at her in an accusing manner. "Many are going to wonder if it wasn't the money that drew you to your husband. Can you honestly say that his financial situation wasn't what prompted this speedy wedding…or are you perhaps in the family way, thus forcing him to marry you?"

Both Erik and Antoinette seemed visibly upset by this question, with the dark haired legal counsel taking a step forward, perhaps ready to throw this rude woman out. But Christine surprised them both by holding up her hand, effectively stopping them from taking any action.

"While I'm rather offended by your question, I'm sure there _are_ some people out there with narrow minds who might think that way," Christine told the woman, causing her to visibly flinch at the scolding. "However, the answer is no. I am not pregnant, so you can scratch that off the list for reasons we got married. And just because someone is rich, does not mean that has to be the only reason someone would find them desirable." Christine then pointed at the woman's left hand. "I can see that you wear a ring on your finger. May I ask…is your husband good looking?"

"He…yes, he is," the woman stammered, not expecting Mrs. Thorn to turn the tables and ask her a question.

"So, how would you feel if I were to assume that his good looks were the _only_ reason you married him?" Christine pressed. "That if he had been unattractive, you wouldn't have given him a second glance?"

From where she sat, Christine could feel Erik stiffen, his back now ram-rod straight at the mention of physical appearance. She had not meant anything by her comment, simply trying to get her point across, and she hoped that he was not taking any of this personally.

"Of course I would have still married him, my husband has many fine qualities besides his looks," she replied, now sounding a bit defensive herself.

"Then why would you automatically assume that _my_ husband doesn't have such qualities as well," she asked the woman, crossing her arms over her chest and giving her a pointed stare. "Trust me, there's more to Erik Thorn than simply dollar signs."

At this, most of the reporters in the room chuckled, apparently impressed by Christine's words. The woman who asked the rude question only nodded, having effectively been put in her place. Yet, best of all, Erik was now looking at her as if she had just given him the best compliment in the world, and riding high on his approval, she found herself continuing.

"Now…" Christine added, a sly little grin coming to her face. "That is not to say I don't find my husband's financial status appealing. Just because one buys a cow for the milk, does not mean that they would overlook the benefits of free fertilizer as well."

Not only did Erik's lips curl slightly into an amused grin, but Antoinette actually gave a rather unladylike snort of humor, causing the rest of the room to break out in laughter. Each one there enjoying Christine's humorous parallel as they did their best to write down every word as quickly as possible.

.

.

After that, the reporters were indeed kinder, and all seemed genuinely friendly towards her. They even questioned her further about her father's mysterious illness, promising to make mention of it in their articles to help raise awareness. No one asked any more personal questions or made any awkward accusations, and by the end of the interview Christine was laughing and talking with them like old friends, even calling a few by name. As they ventured out into the waiting room, Erik and Christine posed for one or two photos, fulfilling their end of the bargain in exchange for being left alone after this. All the reporters exited with a smile on their faces, many already on the phone with their editors, in hopes of being first to publish what they had learned.

"Well…that didn't turn out so bad," Antoinette said with a satisfied smile.

"Really?" Christine asked, looking up at Erik hopefully. "Did…did I do all right?"

"Christine, you had them eating out of the palm of your hand," Erik all but beamed with pride. "I have no idea why you were so worried, you did splendidly."

"And you aren't upset with me over that rather silly joke about the cow, are you?" She had to cringe just a bit when she thought of how bold she had been with that one. Her father always said, 'laugh and the whole world laughs with you', and at least Christine had them laughing. She just hoped Erik was not put out that it had been a bit at his expense.

"Moo," Erik said in a droll voice, yet winked at her as he did, causing Christine to sigh with relief. "While I was rather startled at being likened to a milk cow…I did indeed see your point, and it was well played," he told her with a nod of approval. "And if nothing else, it would appear you made Antoinette's day."

"Forgive me, Mr. Thorn…but you had to admit, it was very humorous," she giggled, doing her best to pull herself together.

"I will…but only once, and then you will immediately forget I ever said it, and never speak of it again," he conceded with a roll of his eyes. "Now, I think it is time to head home. You have been in the lime-light enough for one day, Christine."

"I can't agree with you more!" she nodded, the two of them waving goodbye to Antoinette and Elizabeth as they headed for the elevator.

.

.

Christine was already grinning like a fool by the time they arrived at the garage level, in eager anticipation of getting to ride in the Ferrari again. As Erik opened the door for her and she slipped into the leather seats, she looked up at him in expectation.

"If I learn to drive…would you let me take one of your cars out for a spin around the block?" Christine asked hopefully.

"I believe you mean _our_ cars," Erik reminded her, raising an eyebrow at her slip of the tongue.

"Yes, fine…our cars," she agreed, giving an exasperated sigh. "If you do let me though, I promise to study really hard and drive super slow."

"You will do no such thing!" he said, shocking her a bit by his reply. "If you are going to drive a car like this, it would be a sin to take it easy and drive slow! They are built to drive fast."

"Oh…all right, I'll drive it very fast then…but carefully," she added, knowing that it would destroy her to damage such a beautiful machine.

"Would you like me to enroll you in those driving classes I mentioned before?" he questioned as he rounded the car and climbed in the driver's seat.

"Well…maybe _you_ could teach me?" she suggested, giving him a bashful glance out of the corner of her eye. "Or Gerald, if you are too busy."

"I am never too busy to spend time with you, Christine," Erik assured her, his tone revealing that he was rather touched by her request. "We will begin your lessens right after your recital…for until then, I think it best we concentrate on that alone."

"Agreed," she nodded. "Now…aren't you going to start the engine? I love it when you make it roar."

"Of course, my little Mario Andretti," Erik laughed, turning the key as the engine sprang to life. "Your wish is my command."

.

.

Later that night, after their singing lesson, the two of them sat in the entertainment room, Erik working on papers at his desk and Christine flipping channels looking for anything about the interviews, she ended up on a local station that she knew had been represented that afternoon. Within minutes, her diligence paid off, and they did indeed listen as the anchorman announced the segment.

 _"Many of you are familiar with the fourteen story building bearing the name Phantom Industries that is located on Townsend Street, yet what you might not know is that its owner recently got married. That's correct, ladies, Erik Thorn, reclusive billionaire and philanthropist, is off the market."_ Here they put up one of the photos that Erik had allowed to be taken, showing the two of them standing side by side, Christine's hand cradled in his, as he looked down at her, the exposed side of his face revealing a rather pleased look. She in turn was blushing slightly, and for the life of her she couldn't quite remember what he had said to have caused it. The whole day had been a bit of a whirlwind, but at least they both looked happy, and that had been the point, had it not?

The anchorman went on to talk about Christine's background, her interest in music, and much to her joy, her father's medical condition, listing off many of the symptoms one should look for if they had contracted CIDP. When they were done, and had gone on to other matters, Christine gave a sigh of relief.

"Well…that wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," she stated, turning around as she gave Erik a hopeful look. "Did they do all right?"

"They did fine," he nodded in approval. "That channel, at least, will remain in business." He added a little wink to his words, softening the threat just a bit, and making Christine laugh and roll her eyes.

As Erik went back to his paperwork, Christine listened to more of the local news and weather, until another segment came on about a store going out of business.

 _"This will be the last week that the 'Tickles and Treats' adult fantasy shop on ninth street will be open for business."_ The pretty on-location reporter said into the camera. _"The highly controversial sex store will be closing their doors for good next Friday. So, if you're interested in something to spice up your love life…now's the time to get it - and all at the tune of seventy-percent off retail prices. Come early for best selections, everything must go!"_

Next, they cut to some static shots of the outside of the building, followed by a few close-ups of the rather risqué merchandise they offered. This caused Christine to scrunch up her face in disgust, her hand immediately coming up to change the channel with the remote.

"No! Wait, Christine," Erik said, halting her before she could continue surfing.

At his words, she turned around and looked at him curiously, wishing to know what had prompted him to stop her. She felt her jaw drop just a bit as she saw Erik writing down the address to the sex shop very rapidly, mumbling to himself about how he would need to look into that. Once the segment was over, he turned his attention back to his papers, informing her that she could change it now if she wished.

Christine was horrified! Did Erik truly mean to _check out_ the merchandise sold at 'Tickles and Treats'…for himself? Was he really into such things? And worse still…did he expect her to participate in such fetishes? She turned back to face the television, sinking lower and lower as she did her best to hide her panic from the man who sat behind her. What was she going to do?

The rest of the evening dragged on, with Christine no closer to any ideas about how to deal with all this. Not even the half hour sit-com could tear her mind away from her fears. Was Erik into kinky sex? What exactly might that entail? Christine had no idea what most of the items shown from the store were even used for! How could she tell Erik that she was just not interested in such things?

.

.

When it was at last time for bed, Christine went through her usual routine like a robot, her mind still centered on one thing only…gently letting Erik know that _her_ proclivity didn't run in that direction. Oh, why hadn't she thought to mention this when going over the contract, insisting that their bedroom activities be kept in the realm of what most considered normal. Yet such a disquieting idea had never occurred to her, and why should it? This was insane!

"Christine," Erik spoke up as they climbed into bed, a place that now appeared to be causing his wife a measure of discomfort. "Is anything wrong?"

"No…I'm fine," she lied, instantly rolling over and burying herself beneath the covers. "Good night."

"Good night," he responded, still certain that something was nagging at her. Yet, Erik had come to realize that pestering her was not the way to get answers, and that given enough time, Christine would eventually work up the nerve to speak about whatever was upsetting her. He just had to be patient. So, shutting off the light, Erik laid there in the dark, waiting. It was less than fifteen minutes later that he knew his diligence had paid off.

"Erik," Christine said, suddenly sitting up in bed and turning to face him, her eyes as wide as saucers in the moonlight, telling him that she was indeed ready to speak. "I…I…"

"Yes, Christine?" he prompted, wishing for her to get her concerns off her chest so they could both get some sleep.

"I…I'm not into kinky sex!" she all but shouted, instantly covering her mouth with her hand as if she had surprised herself with the force of her declaration.

And yet, if Christine had been shocked by them, _Erik_ was completely floored by this revelation.

"WHAT?" he gasped, now also sitting up in bed.

"I'm not into all that BDSM stuff," she clarified, not wanting there to be even a hint of misunderstanding on the subject. "I would not be at all interested, or remotely comfortable, if those kinds of things were brought into this house."

At this Erik bounded from the bed, taking a few steps back as he stared at his wife as if she had gone insane.

"And why on earth would you think that _I_ would wish to do so?" he demanded, his tone still one of utter confusion. "Have I ever given you even the smallest indication that _I am_ into such things? _Any at all_?"

"Well…tonight you did," she told him hesitantly. "When that commercial came on about that sex store going out of business…you told me to stay on that channel, and then I saw you write down the address for it. What else am I to assume?"

"That I was interested in possibly buying the property once it had been shut down!" Erik stated, his hands now fisted in his hair, as if still unable to comprehend how Christine had managed to jump to such a wrong conclusion. "I have several clients who are looking to build in that area, and I wrote down the address so that Antoinette could look into the financial advantages of purchasing it. I had no interest in the store itself, and certainly not in the merchandise it sells!"

"Oh…" was all Christine could think to say, thankful that the darkened room hid the blush of utter shame that she now wore. "I…I guess I didn't think of that."

"Apparently not!" Erik continued, pacing back and forth a few more times as he did his best to calm himself. To hear Christine talk about such things…and while they were in bed no less…had been rather shocking. And while Erik had spent a fair amount of time dreaming of what intimate acts they would one day engage in, not once had…had…well, any of that stuff she had mentioned ever been a part of it! "Did you truly think me capable of such ideas, Christine? That I would insist that you submit yourself to those activates, simply to please my sexual preferences?"

"Well…I didn't know!" she moaned, flopping back on her pillow as she covered her face with her hands in shame. "I mean, you've obviously been around the block a few times, where the most I've ever done was kiss a guy!"

"And I am extremely grateful for that!" Erik huffed, stepping forward and sitting down at the foot of the bed, rubbing his temples as if he were now sporting a headache. "But please, rest assured that I have never been interested, nor ever will be interested, in anything of that sort. You can put such concerns out of your mind, Christine. My desires in the bedroom are very… _normal_ , I promise."

 _Normal_ , Christine thought to herself, feeling even more like a fool for not realizing it sooner. Ever since she signed that contract, Erik has appeared to want nothing but the typical, routine, nothing out of the ordinary, kind of relationship. Why on earth would she expect him to suddenly switch gears now?

"Erik…I'm sorry for jumping to such a ridiculous conclusion," she told him, inching her way down the bed just a bit, until she was kneeling in front of him, doing her best to apologize. "I should have given you the benefit of the doubt, and not simply assumed the worst."

"Thank you, Christine," Erik said with a sigh. "However, looking back now, I can see how I might have easily given you the wrong impression. I'm only glad you chose to address the matter with me right away, instead of allowing it to fester and cause a rift to form that I was unaware needed to be fixed."

"There, you see," she said, her tone turning to one of happiness. "We're getting better at this! We're well on our way to mastering the art of communication."

"I only hope we conquer it soon, for I doubt I could take too many more of these heart-stopping misunderstandings," he chuckled, recalling just how shocked he had been when Christine had brought up such a sensitive subject. "Now, if this is at last cleared up…might we try and get some sleep?"

"Yes, I think that would be best," she smiled, crawling back to her spot and snuggling down beneath the covers. "Thank you for understanding, Erik."

"You're welcome, Christine," he responded, his voice sounding calm once again. He too returned to his spot, lying on his back as he stared up at the darkened ceiling. Yet after a few minutes, he felt his wife roll back over, resting her right cheek on her pillow as she looked at him.

"Erik…can I ask you a question?" she whispered, apparently worried he might now be asleep.

"Yes, Christine," he told her, knowing it would be a long time before sleep would find him this night.

"When you said you would have to hunt down and eliminate any man I had previously slept with…had I actually done so…you were just kidding, right?" came her nervous question.

Erik was silent for a moment, deciding how to answer that. At last he gave a heavy sigh, speaking into the darkness.

"No, Christine…I was deadly serious," he informed her. "Yet, I suppose _eliminate_ was probably not the best word I could have used. Perhaps _relocate_ would better describe what I had in mind. I fear my ego would not have been able to tolerate the idea of you running into one of your former lovers on the street or in a store. So I would have seen to it that all were offered a lucrative job in another state, or something along those lines. I might not be able to undo the past, but I could seriously alter their future. Yet, I would not have harmed them, if that is what you were thinking."

"I'm glad," she mused. "Yet, as I said…I've never had any lovers. So you don't need to worry about that. You…" here she paused and swallowed hard. "…you will be my first."

Once again, Erik was silent, instantly overwhelmed by the implications of her statement. He couldn't believe his fortune. To have not only found the one woman he could truly love, but then to know that he would be the only man to ever touch her in an intimate fashion. It was almost surreal, and it left him full of excitement and awe.

"And it will truly be an honor to be so," he responded at last, his voice nearly cracking from the emotions he felt. "Thank you, Christine."

Once more they lapsed into silence, yet it was painfully clear to both that neither one was able to fall asleep. At last, the curiosity became too much for him, and Erik had to ask.

"Christine…you said you had only _kissed_ a man before," he probed, wondering if it was idiotic to ask, knowing it would only upset him…but he had to know. "Would that be only one man, or men…as in plural?"

"Why…do you plan on hunting them down as well, and cutting off their lips?" she responded, a slight giggle escaping at the thought.

"No, Christine," Erik huffed. "I was simply curious."

"What about you?" she countered, turning the tables on him. "How many girls have _you_ kissed…or slept with?"

"I do not see how that is relevant," he argued, not wishing to talk about his past liaisons.

"Quid pro quo, Erik," Christine told him, not giving in. "I'll tell you about mine, if you tell me about yours."

"Fine!" he grumbled, pausing for a moment before answering. "Besides you, I have been associated with three different women in my past…only two I've been intimate with, though I will admit to multiple occasions with both, while the third I only kissed." He felt himself flinch just a bit at the memory of that lone kiss…one that had scarred his mind, as well as his chest. "I ended things with all of them some time ago, and since none reside in New York, you will undoubtedly never chance to meet them. I harbor no emotional attachment to any of them, and I can guarantee that I will never avail myself of their company again."

"Interesting," Christine mumbled, her mind spinning a mile a minute. His words had been both honest, yet full of secrets. She found it strange that she felt a twinge of jealousy knowing there were other women who were more intimately acquainted with her husband than she was…yet Christine could hardly hold his past against him in that department. Still, what had her most curious was the _one_ woman whom Erik had only kissed, but never taken things farther? Why was _she_ different from the rest?

"And you, Christine? What is your magic number?" he questioned, not about to have given up his private information with nothing in return. "How many men have you kissed?"

"Three," she informed him, seeing no reason to hide this from him. "Yet two were simply pecks on the cheek at the end of dates, and I never saw either of them again."

"And the third?" Apparently, Erik thought to himself, this was the one he needed to be concerned with.

"The third…which was actually the first…was my high-school boyfriend," Christine revealed. "We dated for about six months during senior year."

"And his name?" Erik pressed.

Christine once more paused, not having said it out loud in a very long time due to the pain it caused her.

"His name was… _Raoul_."

* * *

 ** _'His name was Raoul'_...words that might just end up killing Erik. ha ha.**

 **So, how did the interview go? Was the cow joke funny? Moo.**

 **And look, Erik gets to mark 'holding hands' off his list.**

 **Looks like Christine has a need for speed. ha ha.**

 **So, she thought Erik was into kinky sex? I guess he set her straight on that.**

 **Three women in his past...two he slept with, one he only kissed...more on THAT soon.**

 **Now, we deal with Raoul. Oh, joy for Erik.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 _ **For chapter 27**_

 **Guest:** Why did I leave you on that cliffie? Because I am mean? Or that's just where the chapters fell. Sorry. Yes, hearing Erik sing is the highlight of our lives...*sigh* Meg is just full of energy. I hope the story of M. Giry's past was to your liking and that it made up for making you wait. Thanks!

 **Kristin:** Yes, Antoinette is like a motherly figure for Christine in some ways. Erik is beginning to realize that he will catch more flies with honey than vinegar. ha ha. I think Amir likes Antoinette too...what WILL Erik have to say about all this though. And I think Amir gets enough money but he is too lazy to shop and cook for himself. And someone has to keep Hungry Man dinners and Starbucks coffee in business. ha ha. They have not even been married a full month yet...they still have a little over a week to go. Thanks.

 **Guest C:** Erik is quite in his element telling people what to do, right? Teaching is his forte. And the best part is...he is talented enough to do it well, too. Christine is a good influence for him, he is starting to mellow. Yes, Amir is a very good dinner guest, he does have such fun stories too. Amir and Antoinette would be a good pair, I just hope they can see that as well. And Erik. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Gummy:** what did you mean by old men humor? Did I miss something? And yes, Erik with kids should be fun...I can see him loving the baby and toddler stages, but once the terrible teens hit...watch out Erik...especially if she's a pretty girl! All boys her age should just leave the country now. It would be safest. Thanks.

 _ **For chapter 28**_

 **Guest:** Well, now...that was a very fine threat to Mr. Robert Giry...and if he has any brains - which I don't think he did, seeing as how he treated Antoinette so horribly - he will never darken their door again...assuming he is still alive to do so. ha ha. You are welcome for the pillow...but better yet, how about Erik stand under that cliffie next time and just catch you in his strong arms? Better? Erik likes marking things off his relationship list. Thanks.

 **Gummy:** I really like your original list Erik would have had under the opera house. I especially like how you kept commening "update...did not go as planned" ha ha. That made me laugh. And Erik drowning his sorrows in Ben and Jerry's Ice cream is quite the mental picture. I will share some rocky road with him. Thanks for the laugh.

 **Kristen:** We will find out what happened to Mr. Giry soon enough. I agree with Christine, Antoinette needs to tell Meg all about it. She is old enough now to understand. Yes, Christine is the type who will not want sex before there is love. Erik needs to figure that out. So get with the love Erik! Thanks.


	30. Chapter 30

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 **Hello there! Friday is here and so is another chapter...and a really LONG one too!**

 **Now remember, some of you are still holding snippet cards, which can be spent any time you wish, but just in case you forgot who you are...here is the current list:**

 **Animekitty47, Littlered2606, EMK81, GinnevraPhantom, AshleyCNichole, Nanjica04, Down 1 More, 1 Pulgal, Wintermouse, BonpetitePoodles, ClaryF, Cotesgoat, Emmaaaaw, Rose-w-BK-Silk-Ribbon, Queen of the Beasts, Not a Ghost 3, ChristineOfTheOpera, Hearts Broken, Melstrife, Phan3145.**

 **And Unseen Angel 17, Wynni, La-femme-cavalier, and Phantomfan01 each have two.**

 **(If I missed anyone, let me know. And if I spelled a name wrong, I'm sorry)**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 30**

 **~X~**

* * *

 _Raoul_ …Erik found he instantly hated this man. His name also sounded French, and after the hell he had lived through growing up in Paris, Erik was not a big fan. Still, he decided that he probably wouldn't have liked him any better if he were called Bob, or John, or any other ordinary name, simply due to the fact that he had once shared a relationship with _his_ Christine. Yet, Erik wisely kept his feelings to himself, calmly urging his wife to continue with her story.

"Raoul's family originally came from Europe, so he got teased a bit over having such an odd name," she went on, not noticing Erik's hands had begun balling into fists as she described him. "I had gone through something similar, having a last name like Daaé, so the two of us kind of bonded due to that I guess."

"What prompted the two of you to go your separate ways?" Erik questioned, hoping it was a really horrible break up…or perhaps he would get lucky and the boy had met with some fatal accident, having long been dead and buried. "Was your parting…mutual?"

"Not exactly," Christine said, before tipping her head to the side just a bit as if thinking about it very carefully. "Or maybe it was. In the end I think we _mutually_ agreed that he was a big jerk, and that I never wanted to see him again. Especially after I caught him kissing my friend Trisha in the broom closet at the prom."

"That idiot cheated on you?" Erik growled, now ready to rip this Raoul's head off, even if he had to dig the boy up from his grave in order to do so.

"Yah…but looking back, I could see how we had been drifting apart for a while, both of us having very different goals in life," Christine told him, feeling obligated to speak in Raoul's defense. "I wanted to pursue music, and he was all fired up to get into law enforcement…as well as Trisha Westlake's pants!" Here she stopped and chuckled just a bit over her joke, surprised that she could actually laugh about it now, when at the time it had felt like her life was over. When Erik gave her an odd look, Christine quickly added. "Don't get me wrong, I was angry as hell at the time, and left the bruise on Raoul's cheek to prove it…but in retrospect, our breakup was a good thing."

"I should say so!" Erik huffed, proud of her for standing up for herself like that. Yet, after how Christine had spoken to him at their first meeting in his office, he would not have expected anything less. "He clearly didn't deserve you, Christine. And good riddance to bad rubbish is all I can say."

"Yes…I suppose," she shrugged, looking as if the subject of Raoul now bored her. "I haven't heard from him, or _anyone_ really from high school, in a very long time. And after my father got sick, and we moved across town…well, I just lost touch with everyone."

"Now you have an opportunity to make a whole new set of friends, Christine," Erik told her. "Ones with similar goals and better standards. I am willing to bet you would never catch Meg Giry betraying you like that."

"I should hope not!" Christine laughed. "Besides, I don't think Trisha Westlake is quite Meg's type."

"You know what I meant," Erik grumbled, though even he couldn't help but grin a bit over her joke.

"Yes, but it's just so much fun to see your eyes roll in irritation like that," she informed him, leaning over just a bit to bump him with her shoulder in a playful fashion. "Now, since our little trip down memory lane appears to be over…how about we try and get some sleep?"

"I heartily agree," Erik nodded, his blood pressure still a bit elevated after hearing all about this foolish boy, _Raoul_. Was this perhaps how Charles felt whenever _he_ came to visit him? He hoped not!

"Good night, Erik," Christine said, fussing around until she got comfortable in bed once more.

"Good night, Christine," he answered back, giving a slight smile as he counted how many times his wife had to turn before settling down in the perfect spot to sleep. Oh, how he loved her.

Erik laid awake for quite a while, until he was certain that Christine was truly asleep, then he silently opened his nightstand drawer and pulled out his little tablet, clicking on a small penlight he kept beside it for circumstances such as this. Flipping to the page with his list, Erik happily crossed off two more things; holding hands with his wife...and joking around with Christine.

Yes…it had been a _very_ good day.

.

.

The following one was Thursday, and Christine couldn't wait till the weekend, for that would mean no longer having to be subjected to Meg's strict dance lessons…even if she could see a marked improvement in her routine due to her friend's assistance. The tiny blond really did know her craft, and Christine decided that once the recital was over it would probably be wise to hit Meg up for a little more instruction, just in case she was ever called upon to perform some dance moves in the future.

Professor Stanley had introduced Christine to the two other singers she would be performing the closing act with at the recital. She had seen both Edward Piangi and Stacy Martinez around school, but had yet to be formally introduced. Thus, she found herself a bit shy during their first run through, yet by the third time, they were starting to click. Stacy had a bubbly personality, reminding Christine a lot of Meg, while Edward was all business and serious, yet pleasant.

Mrs. Weatherly, who was assigned to work with the trio, was very impressed that each of them had already put so much effort into leaning the song. Edward, however, had the distinct advantage of already knowing how to speak Italian, seeing that his family hailed from there…while Christine and Stacy did not. Still, things went well and when she left school that day, she was feeling rather proud of herself, and extremely grateful for Erik's assistance.

Christine told her father all about the interview when she visited him at Leathwood later that day, spending as much time as she could without being too late getting home. Yet true to his word, Erik made no fuss over the fact that he had arrived ahead of her, and was already working at his desk in the entertainment room.

"How was your day?" he asked, sitting back as she entered, a wide grin plastered across her face.

"Wonderful," she informed him, flopping down on the sofa. "No one mobbed me for an interview, I was able to practice my piece for the solo with both the other singers, my father had his last dose of the medicine today, and I was finally able to do the high kick from the routine that Meg has been helping me with!" She then folded her hands in her lap and looked at him expectantly. "And how was _your_ day?"

"Not as productive as yours, it would seem," Erik chuckled, enjoying the enthusiasm that radiated off of his wife. "I think I even caused Antoinette to pull out a fistful of her hair when I rejected the latest proposal that she and her team of lawyers had put together. I might have to purchase the poor woman a wig or something."

"You really need to be nicer to her, you know," Christine chided gently. "She's worked for you for a long time…and that's saying something."

"True…maybe instead of a wig, I should give her a medal," Erik suggested, tapping his finger to his chin in thought.

"Why Erik Thorn!" Christine gasped, sitting up as she leaned over the back of the couch just a bit. "Did you just make a joke?"

"Perhaps," he mused. "How did I do?"

"Well…I'll give you an A for effort, but don't quit your day job," she told him with a deadpan look…seconds before she burst out laughing at his downcast expression.

"See if I ever try anything new again," he huffed, purposefully ignoring her as he went back to his laptop. "Now, try and keep your snide little remarks to yourself so I can finish this before dinner. Then we will have all evening to spend on your recital parts. With two of them now, we will need to work extra hard."

"Yes, sir!" Christine said, giving him a crisp salute.

"It would appear that I married a foolish girl," he stated with a roll of the eyes.

"Hey, _you're_ the one who wrote up the contract…not me!" she reminded him, kicking off her shoes as she reached out and picked up a magazine that was sitting on the coffee table in front of her. "But I'll be quiet as a church mouse, and not disturb the highhanded president any further."

At her odd description of him, he looked up, catching the sly little grin and playful gleam in her eyes, just before she hid her face behind the magazine. Was this how husbands and wives normally interacted? If so…Erik was loving every moment of it!

.

.

Later that evening, they practiced in the music room again, their time spent there a pleasure for them both. Christine still could not get over Erik's intoxicating voice, and how effortless he made it all seem. When he would take up the part that Edward had been assigned, she would just stare at him in shock and awe. Christine could easily sit and listen to Erik sing all day long.

"Erik, have you ever considered singing professionally?" she asked during one of their short breaks.

He looked up from where he sat, staring at her with disbelief in his amber eyes.

"I would think the answer to that would be obvious, Christine?" he stated, making a gesture towards his face.

"But you sing like… well, like no one I've ever heard before," she insisted. "Your mask wouldn't matter at all once they heard your voice, Erik."

"Ah, but that's where you are wrong, Christine," Erik countered. "My mask would become even _more_ of an issue. Just the same as it has with me being CEO of Phantom Industries. Do you know how often I had to fend off crazy reporters during my first few years in the limelight? Some even attempting to pull the mask right off my face! I have enough to deal with the way things are, I will not attempt to offer my music to a thankless world that wants nothing more than to put me on display like some carnival freak. No, Christine…I will _not_ sing in public."

"It just seems like a terrible waste of talent, if you ask me," she said with a bit of a pout.

"No, _your_ voice would be a waste of talent if you were not able to perform," he corrected. "And I have already decided that only you shall bring my music to life, Christine. Through _you,_ I will have my music heard…only you."

Once more Christine was a bit overwhelmed by his confidence in her abilities, and worried that she might somehow disappoint him in the end. Yet, it was his music, and his decision, so who was she to argue his choice.

"Erik," she began again, this time a little bit more hesitant over the subject she now wished to discuss. "If your face is deformed like you say…with all your money, why don't you get it fixed?"

Erik was silent for a long while, his shoulders tensing up as he took several deep breaths. He tried to remind himself that she was just asking a logical question, and of course had no idea the extent of the damage that his mask hid. Once he was able to control his temper, he answered her question as calmly as he could.

"I have looked into the idea on more than one occasion," he told her. "Every time I read of a new procedure, or some miracle surgery now being offered, I would do the research. And yet, each time I was told the same thing; it cannot be fixed, it cannot be repaired, and if I were ever foolish enough to try, I would run the risk of making it worse…if _that_ is even possible. I have given up on pipe dreams a long time ago Christine, and I would appreciate it if you would not bring up such a sore subject again."

"All right," she nodded, sensing the pain in his voice. "If that's what you wish, I won't mention it again."

"It is…thank you," he stated. "Now, shall we return to your practice? Your last three times going through the song have been excellent…but I think you still need to work on projecting your voice at the end, you will be singing with two others at that point, and you will need to make yourself heard. Do not hesitate to raise your volume…just keep your notes strong and level as you do. Shall we start from the top?"

Christine was a bit disappointed that their conversation had not gone the way she had hoped. For to sing on stage with Erik would be a dream come true, to share this joy with him at her side would be nothing short of amazing. Yet, if singing with him in their own private music room was all he was willing to offer…she would take it gladly. Anything to enjoy the beauty of her husband's voice.

.

.

Friday arrived, with everyone at Juilliard very excited about the recital the following evening. The whole place was abuzz and most of the teachers had suspended classes for the day so that the students could have some extra rehearsal time…just in case.

Christine and her group did get in one final run through, but on a whole, they all felt very comfortable and prepared. She and the other two soloists, Edward and Stacy, had only been able to practice together a few times thus far, so Christine spent most of her day working with them until they each felt ready. Erik's assistance the past few nights had really helped, and even Professor Stanley had commented on her quick mastery of the song.

Meg had been too busy with her own piece to offer any dance practice, so Christine ended up getting home rather early that day. Looking at the clock, she saw that Erik wouldn't be home for at least two more hours, so she hurried up to search through her closet for a dress to wear for her solo the following night. The three had decided to go with sophisticated black, with Edward in a dark suit and Stacy and her wearing simple dresses, making it easy to find on short notice.

Christine had recalled a very lovely tea-length black number in her closet, and after digging through a dozen other dresses, she found what she was looking for. Every girl should have a little black dress, or so they say, and it turned out she had a humdinger of one. She quickly tried it on, very pleased with the way it clung in all the right places, yet still allowed her to retain her modesty. Erik would approve as well, she decided.

Grabbing a nice pair of matching heels, she next headed for her dresser, pulling out her jewelry box. When money had become tight, she and her father had sold everything of value, trying to keep their heads above water. But there had been one thing she refused to part with… _her mother's pearls_. Her father had given them to his wife for their first anniversary, saving up the money for months in order to afford the real thing. Much like she had felt at her wedding, when wearing a dress similar to hers, Christine knew she would feel closer to her mother if she had them on. It would be like taking a piece of her up on stage…to help steady her nerves.

As she slipped into the shoes, and fastened the beloved necklace around her throat, Christine could feel the excitement bubbling within her. She was going to be singing on stage at Juilliard! Heading for her bathroom, she stared at herself in the full length mirror, assessing her appearance. Maybe she should wear her hair up? Yet, Erik had often told her he preferred it loose. She would simply have to see how much time she had between performances, to determine if she had time to go with an upsweep, or just leave it down. Christine was glad that the scrape on her arm was starting to heal, and with just a bit of cover-up on the still red area, no one would notice a thing, especially from way out in the audience. Now satisfied with what she would be wearing, Christine undressed and hung her things back up, deciding to take a quick shower.

When she had finished and redressed in a comfortable pair of blue jeans and a simple top, Christine headed back downstairs. Yet as she neared the entryway, she heard what sounded like Mrs. Murphy arguing with someone at the door.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Thorn is not available right now," she said in a firm tone, both of her hands on the door as if she were attempting to keep someone out. "And I would suggest you call and make an appointment with Mr. Thorn before you attempt to return."

"I don't wish to see _Mr. Thorn_ ," a man's voice replied. "I want to see Christine."

"And I just told you that she is busy," Mrs. Murphy repeated, acting as if she were going to shut the door in his face.

"Laura?" Christine spoke up, using Mrs. Murphy's first name, as they agreed to do when alone. "Who is it? What do they want?"

"It's some man, and he says he wishes to speak with you…alone," the elderly woman hissed, doing her best not to allow the stranger to hear her. Unfortunately, Mrs. Murphy was not very good at whispering, and a call came from the man on the doorstep.

"Christine? Christine is that you?" he asked, doing his best to poke his head through the door. "It's me…Raoul Chaney. Can I please speak with you?"

 _"Raoul?"_ Christine gasped, finding it rather strange that she hadn't thought of him in years, and then he shows up out of the blue only two days after she mentioned him to Erik. Still, she couldn't help but be curious, and she came forward, signaling for Mrs. Murphy to open the door wider.

Raoul hadn't changed much by her way of thinking, his full head of sandy-blond hair was neatly groomed as usual, his clothes very stylish, and the smile that lit his face was still enough to set most women's heart aflutter. He looked to have filled out a bit perhaps, his arms more muscular and his suit seemed to fit him rather well. And while their years apart had apparently caused Christine to no longer view him as the rotten jerk who had broken her heart the night of the prom, she also realized there were no residual feelings of affection for Raoul either. Well, other than friendship perhaps, after all, they _had_ shared quite a bit of history. "What on earth are you doing here, Raoul?"

"I came to talk to you," he explained, looking her up and down with a wide grin. "Wow…you haven't changed a bit, Christine. You still look amazing." He gave Mrs. Murphy a side glance, before turning his eyes back to her. "Could I come in, please? I really wish to speak with you… _alone_."

Christine wasn't sure what Erik would think about her admitting any gentlemen callers while he was away, especially one she used to date. But the odd look in his eyes, a near desperation you might say, caused her to relent.

"We can talk in the sunroom," she informed him, gesturing for him to enter, despite the look of horror that crossed the cook's face. "Mrs. Murphy, could you please bring in something to drink…maybe some ice tea or lemonade?"

"If you wish, Mrs. Thorn," she agreed, though Christine could tell she was not at all happy about it. And after giving Raoul one last threatening glare, the elderly cook headed for the kitchen.

"Sheesh, some guard dog you got there, Christine," Raoul chuckled as soon as Mrs. Murphy was out of earshot. "I didn't think she was going to let me in."

"Oh, I can pretty much guarantee that she wasn't," Christine informed him, knowing the usually friendly cook was not one to be swayed by a handsome face, or a few sweet words. "Shall we have a seat and talk?" she asked, gesturing to the sun-room and then to a couple of the comfortable chairs within. After the two had been seated, at a proper distance from each other, Raoul went on.

"It's really good to see you again, Christine, truly it is," he told her, once more all smiles. "But I have to admit, with the way we left things back in high school, I…I was a bit afraid to come see you today."

"Then why did you, Raoul?" she questioned. "Since it's obvious I'm married now, I can hardly believe it was to ask me out on a date."

"Oh, no, I'm not stupid enough to risk feeling your wrath again, Slugger," he laughed, rubbing his cheek as if recalling the punch she had given him at their last meeting. "I've always wanted to apologize for that stupid stunt I pulled that night at the prom, Christine. I'd had far too much to drink and well…I was just a colossal jerk. I felt just horrible the next day and tried to call and stop by, but your father wouldn't let me talk to you and pretty much told me to get lost. So I did. But honestly, I've never forgiven myself for the way I treated you, and I swear that after that night, I've been a reformed man."

"No more playing the field?" Christine asked, sounding a bit surprised by his heartfelt confession.

"No way! I'm a one woman man now, Christine," he told her solemnly. "Well, when I have _time_ to date, that is. I've been kind of focused on my career, so lately it's just been me and the TV, then early to bed. But seriously…will you please accept my apology? It would mean the world to me if you did."

Christine stared at him for a few moments, doing her best to assess his sincerity. Everyone makes mistakes, and he had even admitted that he had been a stupid jerk. It wasn't in her nature to hold grudges, and if Raoul had truly changed, well, who was she to withhold forgiveness.

"Yes, Raoul, I forgive you," she said at last, pulling a brilliant smile from the man's lip.

"Thanks, Christine, you're the best!" he told her, looking quite relieved.

"So, I have to ask…why now?" she questioned. "What made you look me up after so long, and how did you know where to find me?"

"I saw your picture on the television the other night, announcing your marriage, and well… I wanted to come by and see if you were all right." As he watched her brows furrow together in confusion, he quickly pressed on. "I know I'm probably the last person you would expect to hear this from, seeing as how I once betrayed your trust and all…but Christine, I'm worried about you."

"Worried about _me_?" she chuckled. "Whatever for?"

"Because of who you're married to." Here Raoul lowered his voice and leaned forward just a bit. "Erik Thorn is not the man he pretends to be, Christine. He may appear to be an upstanding citizen on the outside, but trust me…I _know_ different."

"Different? How? What are you talking about?" she asked in an irritated tone.

"I work for the FBI, Christine," he told her, looking a bit proud of the fact. "And while I'm currently assigned to office work, I've been studying for the exams to be a field agent…like my brother was. You remember Phil, right?"

"Phil? Oh yes, I do remember meeting him a few times," Christine nodded, recalling that he had always seemed very quiet and serious, where Raoul was wild and fun.

"Yes, well Phil's the Regional Director for the FBI here in New York, and because of him, I happen to be privy to a bit more information than any normal desk-jockey would be," he continued. "And that's how I know that Erik Thorn is bad news, and currently on the watch list for organized crime."

"Raoul…surely you know that you can't believe _everything_ you hear," Christine said with a roll of her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest as she did her best to appear unaffected by what he had just said. Still, how could she not be?

Hadn't Christine first met her husband while in the company of some very shady looking characters? And what about all the secrecy Erik insisted upon, the confidentiality clause, and how he never seemed to want to open up about his business? Christine didn't like hearing this at all!

Still, she was not about to let Raoul waltz in here and turn her life upside down _again_ , especially now that she and Erik appeared to at last be on somewhat solid ground. Christine had never known Raoul to be the devious type, unless you count that incident with Trisha Westlake, and she couldn't see him saying any of this out of spite or jealousy. Yet, Erik was now her husband, and he deserved the benefit of the doubt.

"Trust me, Christine, I wouldn't have come if I wasn't truly concerned," he went on. "I heard that your marriage was a bit rushed, and maybe you didn't have time to get to know him as well as you should. Erik Thorn is not known for taking things slow, or accepting the word no, and when I read that article about your father and his condition, and how he is being treated at that expensive Leathwood Research Facility…well, you can't blame me for suspecting the worst."

"I can and I will, and even more so if you continue to bad-mouth my husband, Raoul!" she stated firmly. "And let me assure you, I am perfectly fine, in no danger of anything you might suspect, and am quite happy in my marriage." Well, she might have fudged a bit on that last part, but he didn't need to know that, now did he?

"Really, Christine?" Raoul pressed. "I…I feel kind of responsible for you, especially after what I did in the past. And with your father not able to defend you, I…well, I really hope you know you can come to me if you're ever in trouble. Please, Christine, I just want to be your friend again. I've really missed you the last few years."

And while Christine had not truly given Raoul a second thought lately, being so busy with her father and now her whirlwind marriage, she could honestly say that she had once enjoyed being his friend. It was also now more than evident that any past feelings of romance between the two of them had been fleeting and doomed to failure. Raoul was fun, she had enjoyed the attention and flattery, but in the end, there had been no substance…not like there was with Erik.

"All right, Raoul. I can see us being friends again, but _only_ if you stop speaking ill of my husband!" she warned. "I thank you for your concern, but I can assure you, there is no need." Christine then leaned back in her chair and pasted on a pleasant smile. "Now, how about we wipe the slate clean and talk of other things? Tell me what you've been up to…and how you ended up joining the FBI."

Raoul apparently didn't like the idea of Christine not taking his warnings seriously, but still, he agreed to her request and the two fell into a comfortable conversation about this and that.

.

.

Meanwhile, the moment Mrs. Murphy entered the kitchen, she had called Amir, who was just getting out of the shower, rubbing his hair dry with a towel as he picked up his phone.

"You need to get over here right away!" the near hysterical woman told him. "A man came to see Christine…and she let him in!"

"WHAT?" Amir barked out, his eyes immediately going to the panel on the security board. "How did he get in? None of the alarms have been tripped, and no one has requested entry from the main gate…except your delivery boy, it appears."

"The little rat must have snuck in when Peter drove out," the cook reasoned, knowing that the young man who brought the groceries had just left.

"Does this man look dangerous?" Amir questioned, grabbing a T-shirt and pulling it on while trying not to remove the phone from his ear.

"Very dangerous!" Mrs. Murphy insisted. "He's young, good looking, and apparently knows Christine from way back!"

"Oh, no…the worst kind," Amir groaned, just imagining how Erik was going to take this news. His employer was already over the top insecure about his looks, and now to have some young dandy come in and make competition for Christine's affections…well, he really hoped this visitor had good health insurance. "Do what you can to keep them from being alone together, I'll be right over!"

"I'm on it!" Mrs. Murphy told him, hanging up the phone.

"Damn!" Amir muttered, punching the emergency button on his speed dial. When Erik's concerned voice came on the line, Amir didn't mince words. "Get home now! We have a code red!"

The line immediately went dead, telling Amir he had about fifteen minutes to get this intruder out of the house and far enough away that he might live to tell the tale. Otherwise, he couldn't even imagine how Erik would react.

.

.

After hanging up with Amir, Mrs. Murphy had immediately headed for the sunroom, bringing in a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses. The two were laughing and talking about 'old times' by then, and thankfully, from what the cook could tell, the conversation was not of a romantic nature. Still, she took an inordinate amount of time filling the glasses, picking up each ice cube one by one with the little metal tongs, and putting them in the refreshing liquid…doing her best to stall until Amir arrived.

Christine was fully aware that the usually fast and efficient woman was hanging around in order to act as a chaperone, and while she didn't think she needed one, being able to say Mrs. Murphy had been there might later reassure Erik that nothing happened. For like it or not, Christine was certain that her husband would hear about this. Yet, she couldn't help but roll her eyes in exasperation when there came a knock on the patio doors, and Amir stepped inside.

"Mrs. Thorn," he greeted her, his discerning eyes instantly zeroing in on Raoul. "I hear you have… _company_."

"Yes, Amir, I would like for you to meet Raoul Chaney, an old friend of mine from high school," Christine introduced, watching as Raoul rose from his seat and extended his hand to the Persian in a friendly greeting.

"Raoul… _Chaney_?" Amir repeated, his eyes growing wide with shock. _Oh, this was not good…not good at all!_

"Yes, nice to meet you, Amir is it?" Raoul asked.

"Amir Dessan," he nodded, eyeing the man's hand suspiciously for a moment before taking it in a rather powerful grip, sending a message he was certain that even the foolish boy would easily understand. "I'm Mr. Thorn's assistant, and I take care of the security around here. Might I inquire how you got on the property?" Amir gave a smug smile when Raoul had to shake his hand a bit to get the blood flowing once again.

"Oh…well, the gate was open, so I just drove right in," Raoul told him, though from the way he hesitated, anyone could tell he was not telling the full truth.

"And how long were you waiting just outside the gate for it to open so you _could_ simply drive right in?" Amir pressed, not fooled for a moment.

"Well…I…" Raoul stammered, knowing he'd been caught.

"Amir," Christine broke in, not liking the way her bodyguard was grilling her friend. "Raoul is my guest, and as such, I would appreciate you not giving him the third degree." She rose from her chair, and walked over to where Raoul was still standing. "Still, my husband will be home from work soon, and it would probably be best if you left before he arrives."

 _And that might be sooner than you think_ , Amir thought to himself.

"Yes, of course," Raoul agreed, obviously not that keen on facing Erik Thorn. He let her guide him to the front door, turning around just before he left. "It's been wonderful seeing you again, Christine. Please keep in touch…and if you need anything, _anything at all_ , don't hesitate to call me." Here he handed her his business card, giving her a smile and a wave as he headed for his car, a simple grey Chevy Malibu with no flair at all. Christine had to laugh at the obvious contrasts between Raoul and Erik, the mental image of comparing them side by side rather humorous.

.

.

"What did _he_ want?" Amir demanded the moment Christine shut the door and turned around. "What did he _say_?"

"He simply wished to renew our acquaintance," she informed the nosey Persian as she breezed past him and headed back into the sunroom, where Mrs. Murphy was clearing away the refreshments. "He saw my picture on the news and decided to look me up."

"Is that all?" Amir questioned, not sounding as if he believed her.

"Isn't that enough?" Christine snapped back, still rather on edge over the not so complimentary things Raoul had revealed about Erik and his background. What exactly did 'on the watch list for organized crime' even mean? That he was suspected of something mob related? That Erik had done something wrong already? Or that they were afraid he was about to? "I'm allowed to have friends, aren't I? I've never seen you grilling me over what Meg and I discuss."

"Because Meg is not some lowlife who literally snuck onto the grounds in an attempt to gain an audience with you!" Amir countered, not at all comfortable arguing with Christine. This was Erik's area of expertise, and he wished his blasted boss would get home soon and take over for him.

As if his thoughts could actually summon the man from thin air, the front door bust open and in stormed Erik himself. Christine turned and glared at Amir and Mrs. Murphy, placing her hands on her hips in irritation.

"You _tattled_ on me?" she demanded in a disbelieving voice. "What are we, in kindergarten?"

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!" Erik demanded his eyes searching the faces of everyone in the room. "And who was that ridiculous fop in the Chevy I just passed at the end of the driveway?" When no one said a word, only stared at him in fear, he removed his jacket and threw it in the chair beside him. "SPEAK!"

"We're not dogs, Erik, trained to bark at your command!" Christine growled, the irony of her reaction not lost on her. "And _that_ …if you must know, was Raoul. He saw my picture on the news and came by for a visit…that's all."

"RAOUL?" Erik bellowed, the exposed part of his face turning as white as the mask he wore. "YOUR OLD BOYFRIEND… _THAT RAOUL_?"

"Oh dear," Amir muttered, shutting his eyes in disbelief. It was worse than he thought. He turned and gave Mrs. Murphy a pointed stare and a quick nod towards the door, signaling to her that it was probably best they both make a hasty exit before the sparks really started to fly.

"Yes, _that_ Raoul," Christine agreed, giving a sigh of defeat. "I knew telling you about him was a mistake."

"NO, the mistake was letting him in this house!" he contradicted, neither one of them even noticing as Amir and Mrs. Murphy slipped out of the room. "What were you thinking, Christine?"

"I was thinking that this was my house too, and that I was allowed to have visitors whenever I darn well pleased!" she shouted back, not about to give an inch. "Or are we back to this being a prison and you the warden?"

"It has never been that way and you know it!" Erik told her, pacing around the room as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "You are my wife, not my prisoner, not my slave, and not my possession."

"Really?" she argued. "And yet the first time I have a visitor I get the third degree from Amir, Mrs. Murphy as a not so subtle chaperone, and now you accusing me of…of…" Here she stopped and looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Exactly what do you _think_ was going on between me and Raoul, Erik?"

"I have no idea, Christine!" he growled. "Yet, from what little I know of that rogue, he apparently has no moral boundaries and wouldn't think twice about kissing a girl in a broom closet. Why shouldn't I now fear he might try the same with you?"

"Maybe because I wouldn't _let_ him?" Christine cried, throwing her hands up in the air. "I don't give a flying fig if you have trust issues with Raoul, but I would like to think that you might have a bit more faith in _me,_ and not automatically assume I would actually _allow_ him to do such a thing! I'm not a fool Erik! I was burned by him once before and I have more self-respect than to allow him to ever do so a second time!" At this, Christine stepped forward and poked Erik in the chest with her finger a few times, causing him to take a step back. "Not to mention that I have no feelings for Raoul at all…other than a casual friend perhaps, but thanks to Amir, Mrs. Murphy and now you, I wasn't even allowed time to see if _that_ was possible!"

"You wish to pursue a friendship with him?" Erik gasped. "No, I forbid you to ever see that scoundrel again, Christine!" he ordered, folding his arms over his chest in a gesture of finality.

"You… _forbid_?" Christine seethed, sounding both shocked and angry as hell. "What do you think I am, Erik, some doll you can dress up and boss around whenever you like?"

"You are not my Barbie doll Christine, and if you are looking for Malibu Ken, then I believe he just drove out the front gate in that sensible little Chevy!" he countered. "If that's what you are looking for, I would say you have found it in that ridiculous fop, Raoul!"

"So what would that make you? The G.I. Joe type?" she yelled. "Always ready to leap into action and eliminate every little perceived threat with your Kung Fu grip of death! For heaven's sake, Erik…just who do you think you are?"

"I AM YOUR HUSBAND!" Erik informed her with a growl.

"ONLY ON PAPER!" Christine shot back. "And I still haven't figured out exactly _why_ that is. I mean for all your conditions and stipulations, you still haven't given me one good reason _why_ you chose _me_ for this job, instead of a million other girls who would have jumped at the chance! Why me, Erik? WHY ME?"

Erik stared at her for what seemed an eternity, his mind whirling over all the legitimate reasons he had for choosing her. Christine was his life, his soul, his perfect match, and yet one appearance by this loathsome Raoul and their entire future had been placed in jeopardy. They had come so far…grown closer and were finally beginning to understand each other, or so Erik had thought. Yet, now look at things, they were practically back at square one.

"Why you?" he repeated, though his voice was now much softer, nearly a broken-hearted whisper. "Why did I choose _you_ , Christine?" And before Erik had a chance to change his mind, before he could think better of his actions…he spanned the few steps between them, took her face in his hands, and kissed her.

At first the action shocked them both, yet the moment their lips met, it was as if lightning struck, equally stunning them. But then, as if his body at last caught up with his mind, Erik turned what had begun as a rather harsh kiss into what it was always meant to be…soft, tender, and so full of emotion he thought he would surely die right there on the spot. Yes, _this_ was how things were supposed to be with Christine. This was how he had always dreamed having a wife would feel. When she didn't attempt to pull away, or voice any protests, he allowed his hands to leave her face, one sliding around her head, to tangle in her luscious curls. The other slipped down her side, circling around her waist and pulling her against his now fully aroused body. Oh, this was heaven, and if Erik had his way, he would never let this end.

Yet end it did, when Amir made the fatal mistake of re-entering the room.

"Erik…" he said, clearing his throat. "I…I'm sorry to bother you, _really I am_ …but I just received a call, and it's rather urgent."

At the sound of his friend's urgent voice, Erik opened his eyes and pulled back, watching as his wife did the same. She appeared quite shocked and confused, very much like he now felt. What could he say that might defuse this awkward situation? Should he stay and tell her exactly how he felt, and how that kiss was the most wonderful thing he had ever experienced? Erik could see that Christine was waiting for him to say something… _anything_. Yet as he saw Amir giving him a desperate jerk of his head, signaling that he needed to see to this blasted call, he took the coward's way out…and simply left the room.

.

.

Christine stood there, completely stunned by Erik's unexpected actions. She lifted her hand to her lips, almost afraid to believe such a thing even happened…that perhaps she had created the whole thing in her mind. And yet, the bubbly feeling in the pit of her stomach told her otherwise. Erik _had_ kissed her! One moment she was mad as a hornet and yelling at him for his ridiculous behavior, and the next thing she realized…they were kissing. And _he_ wasn't just kissing her, _she_ had been kissing him back!

What had come over her? She should have been slapping his face, not enjoying his lips on hers, not relishing the moment and wishing he would never stop. Ever since that rather innocent kiss at their wedding, Christine had wondered what it would feel like to do it again, even going so far as allowing herself to imagine the two of them… _being intimate_. Their one month anniversary was just around the corner, and though Erik had said one or two months, she was beginning to wonder if she even _wanted_ to wait the full amount of time offered to her. The past week had been almost easy with Erik. They had been getting along so well, talking, and he had even gone so far as to reveal things about his past to her…that was progress, right? And now… _this kiss?_

Christine allowed herself to fall backwards onto the couch, sinking into the soft cushions as she did her best to make heads or tails of what she should do. Thankfully, she was saved from having to do so immediately by Mrs. Murphy, who came tip-toeing back into the sunroom, looking much like the bearer of bad news.

"Ummm, Christine," she began, looking rather guilty. "I…I'm sorry if I in any way betrayed your trust by telling Amir that your friend was here. I didn't mean to get anyone in trouble, but I also knew that Mr. Thorn would throw a livid fit if he found out and I hadn't said something to Amir. I hope you can forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive," Christine told the distressed woman, understanding her motives quite well. "I'm the one who should be apologizing for putting you in such an awkward position."

"No, not at all," Mrs. Murphy insisted. "I know Mr. Thorn can get rather cranky at times, but you have to know he only gets that way because he worries."

"Yes, he _worries_ ," Christine said with a scoff. "Just too bad the only thing he worries about is keeping everything, and everyone, under his complete control. Oh, heaven forbid someone step out of line just a titch!" Christine stood up, still a bit shaken from his kiss, but suddenly feeling as if she needed to speak to Erik about what had just taken place…to find out exactly what it meant. She had asked 'why me' and that had been his only response. Did it perhaps indicate that Amir had been correct about Erik having actual feelings for her? Christine really wanted to know! She turned to face Mrs. Murphy. "Where did my husband slink off to? I think we need to finish this conversation."

"Mr. Thorn…is gone," the cook informed her. "He took a call, spoke to Amir, and then the two of them left. That's what I was coming in to tell you."

"Erik… _left?"_ Christine was shocked. How could he have just walked out after kissing her like that? "THAT COWARD!" she spat, stomping her foot in rage. "That dirty, rotten, sniveling coward!"

"Christine!" Mrs. Murphy gasped, never thinking to hear anyone speaking that way about the boss. "You don't mean that!"

"Don't I?" she questioned. "I only wish he was still here so I could say it to his face…or at least what I can see of it!"

"But…but if he _were_ still here, then there wouldn't be a need for you to call him that," the cook reasoned.

"Yes…well…minor details!" Christine fumed, throwing up her hands in frustration and storming out, taking two steps at a time as she headed upstairs to her room. If Erik could act like a child, then so could she! And right now Christine was going to have a good old fashion sulk!

* * *

 **Now I am not saying you _should_ use your snippet card here...since as far as cliffies go...this one is rather mild compared to others coming up, but its totally up to you.**

 **Well, it looks like Raoul has entered their lives with a bang...and Erik is NOT happy about it.**

 **Soooo, how did you like the kiss? Both Christine and Erik seemed to enjoy it. ha ha.**

 **Christine, however, did NOT enjoy the fact that Erik took off without talking to her more about it all. Oh, he is in for it when he gets home!**

 **I wish the FF site would allow me to do 'strike out' on certain words, since it looks so cool to have the things on Erik's list crossed out, but it won't hold that format when I move it into here. So just imagine those things on Erik's husband-list crossed out, all right?**

 ** _Earn a snippet card!_** Identify the three POTO characters introduced in this chapter and win a free snippet card. Again, I can only offer them to those with accounts, I can't send them out to guest reviewers. Sorry.

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Kristin:** Glad you liked the cow joke. ha ha. The interview did go well...but as you can see, it caused very bad repercussions. Now Raoul is in their lives! I think Erik loved hearing what she said, it made him all warm and fuzzy inside. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Guest:** Yep, Raoul has arrived! And as you just read, yes, Erik is indeed on his way t ...or already there. Yep, Erik is ticking off things on that list left and right. ha ha. Christine can be rather catty when pushed, and that reporter had it coming. More has already been written! Thanks.

 **Guest C:** **(for chapter 28)** Yes, Antoinette had it rough, but after meeting Erik and Amir, things got much better. And yes, 'unconventional' is the word for it. ha ha. Not sure if Erik would ever say he was 'sweet' in any way, shape, or form. ha ha. (but we can) I think Amir and Antoinette need to be a couple! Yep, Erik HAS a checklist, and he has checked a few things off too! He loves getting to do that. Glad you enjoyed it. **(for Chapter 29)** I thought having her ask to hold his hand would be good for both of them right then. ha ha. Happy you liked the interview. So to go along with Erik's famous lines, like "Sing for me" "Make your choice" and "Insolent boy" we can now add "Moo"? ha ha. I think it is good for her to learn to drive as well...and since I'm the writer, you can bet it will happen. Yes, that will be a story to tell...and it WILL be told. Thanks!


	31. Chapter 31

.

 **Posting on Sunday night since I have a early morning tomorrow and might not have time to do it then.**

 **Many of you answered correctly and won a snippet card!**

 **The three new characters introduced in the last chapter were Raoul, Phillipe (Phil) and Piangi.**

 **Now...let's see what happens when Erik comes home!**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 31**

 **~X~**

* * *

As Amir pulled into the driveway, he cringed just a bit, taking note of the time on the dashboard clock.

"I'm sorry this all took so long," he told his friend, who was currently sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the window. "I know you wanted to work things out with Christine and all."

"Yes…perhaps tomorrow," Erik mumbled, only half listening.

"I really don't think she meant half of what she said to you," Amir tried again, doing his best to sound confident. "And if you ask me, I didn't spy any signs of affection between her and Raoul while he was here."

"That is good to know," once more came his somber reply.

Amir's brows furrowed together, feeling as if his words were not truly getting through to Erik's muddled mind.

"Oh, in case you're interested, Mrs. Murphy and I have been having a tawdry love affair for some time now, and I'm pretty sure she's carrying my baby," Amir stated, wondering just what it would take to get Erik's full attention.

"Thank you for keeping me informed," he stated, still not turning to look at the Persian.

"Erik! Come on, don't just shut down like this," Amir loudly insisted, at last causing Erik to turn in his direction. "Things are not that bad, and everything is still on schedule. That foolish boy didn't ruin everything."

"He did for me and Christine!" Erik argued. "We were doing fine…more than fine, in fact! We were talking, laughing, and getting along better than I had hoped for so early in our marriage. And now, with one visit, that ridiculous little playboy has ruined everything!"

"How do you know that? I mean, from what I saw when I came in, you two appeared to be on the same page, so to speak," he pointed out, recalling the heated kiss he had been witness to. "So, am I to assume you two are getting physical?"

"You would assume wrong," Erik huffed. "I was the one who kissed her, and without her permission, I might add. I do not know what she now thinks of me, or the kiss, and I had to leave to do damage control all because of that insolent boy!"

"Listen…you explained things very well to everyone," Amir assured him. "No one thinks Agent Chaney was at your home for any other reason but to see an old school friend. And I will personally see to it that he never gets back on the grounds again."

"Why did that idiot have to be working for the FBI?" Erik groused, knowing just how fragile things with his associates were at the moment. "Why could he not have simply peddled souvenir T-Shirts in Time Square…or maybe sold used cars?"

"Just your luck, right? Although, if you ask me, he looks more like a spokes model for his own line of hair-care products called _Lordly Locks_." Amir gave a bit of a snort at his visual, of that ridiculous Raoul flipping his hair from side to side while holding up a bottle of shampoo. Unfortunately, Erik did not see the humor in his jest, so he cleared his throat and went on. "But still, don't give up hope where Christine is concerned. She just might surprise you…I know she's shocked the hell out of me more than once."

"Yes, but you are easily amazed," Erik informed him, pulling on the door handle and stepping out. "Oh, and remind me to speak to Mrs. Murphy tomorrow, will you?"

"About what? She did her job and called me the moment Raoul arrived," he insisted, worried that the kindly cook might be in trouble with Erik.

"No, I have no issue with her performance this evening," Erik assured him. "I just wish to offer her my condolences, and inform her that she really could have done so much better than choosing _you_ as her lover." And with that, he shut the door and walked towards the house, leaving Amir slack-jawed at his friend's words.

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The house was dark and quiet when he entered, yet that didn't matter to Erik, for he had very keen eyesight, even in the black of night. He made his way up the stairs, half expecting all his clothes and belongings to be piled outside their bedroom door, effectively telling him he would need to sleep elsewhere. Yet, no items were present, so he dared to try the handle. Erik was again amazed to find it not locked, and stepping inside, he noted that Christine was already asleep in bed herself.

So…his wife had not moved into another room, nor had she locked him out of this one. Might this mean that Christine was not as upset with Erik as he had originally believed? He certainly hoped so, yet he was not about to press his luck. So as quietly as possible, he readied himself for bed, slipping under the covers carefully, in hopes of not waking her. Tomorrow would be soon enough to broach the subject of their kiss. And while Erik had enjoyed it more than he could ever explain, he was not looking forward to talking with Christine about it. He knew it would be beyond awkward.

.

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 _Christine had gone to visit her father, just as she always did, yet the moment she stepped through the doors at Leathwood, she got a very strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was compounded by the way the usually friendly receptionist refused to make eye contact with her, turning aside as she busied herself with some paperwork. This made Christine very nervous, and she quickly made her way down the hall towards her father's room, yet every person she met along the way also looked the other direction when she passed. What is going on? Christine asked herself, fear gripping her heart as she neared room twelve. However, when she stepped inside, the place was empty! The bed was stripped clean, no pictures or flowers lined the shelves and windowsill, and worst of all, her father was nowhere in sight. The only thing in the room that was familiar was Susan Kimble, sitting in a chair as she dabbed her eyes with a white handkerchief._

 _"Susan?" Christine whispered, her voice feeling weak and small. "Where…where's my father?"_

 _"Oh, Christine," the pretty red-haired nurse sobbed. "I'm so sorry…but…but he's gone."_

 _"Gone? Gone where?" Christine was not so foolish to know what she meant, but she just couldn't believe it._

 _"He…he passed in the night, they did all we could to revive him, but his heart just stopped," Susan continued. "I'm so sorry, my dear, so very, very sorry."_

 _"No…he can't be gone," Christine protested, taking a few steps backwards in shock and denial. "He was getting better, Dr. Mills said so…my father was going to be all right and come back to me! He was!" She began to look around frantically, searching for her father, knowing for sure that they were lying to her. "Where is he? Papa? PAPA! Where are you, Papa?" Christine then spun around and began to run from room to room, looking in each one, hoping to find him somewhere. "PAPA! PAPA! NO! PAPA, WHERE ARE YOU?"_

"Christine! Christine, wake up!" Erik said, shaking her just a bit in hopes of bringing her out of her nightmare. He had felt her tossing and turning, pulling him from his slumber with her fitfulness, but then she began to scream, calling out for her father as if in great fear. "Wake up, it's just a dream. Everything is all right, Christine!"

The moonlight allowed Erik to see her face in the dark, and when her eyes opened and she began to look around, he could tell that he had gotten through to her at last.

"E-e-erik?" she sobbed, grabbing hold of his arm as she did her best to figure out what was going on.

"Yes, Christine, I am here," he said soothingly. "You were just having a bad dream…you are in our home, safe and sound."

"And my papa? Where's my papa?" Christine begged, the fear in her eyes returning. "Is he still alive?"

"Yes, your father is just fine, he's at Leathwood, right where he is supposed to be," Erik confirmed. "Is that what you were dreaming about? That your father was gone?"

At this Christine burst into tears, leaning forward as she buried her head in his chest and cried her heart out. This was not the first time his wife had cried on him, but Erik had never dreamed that he might be in this position while in bed! Still, he allowed his arms to instinctively ease around her body and gently pull her to him.

"There, there," he said, patting her back and doing his best to sound comforting. "There's no reason to cry, it was all just a very bad dream. Your father is still with you, he's getting better, and you have nothing to worry about."

"It…it felt so real," she whimpered, attempting to calm down. "Susan said he was gone, and I couldn't find him."

"If you would like, we could call Leathwood right now and you could speak to Jerome," Erik offered, willing to do anything to dispel her fears. "I'm sure they won't mind putting you through."

"No…I…I don't want to bother anyone, or sound like some hysterical ninny," she told him, reaching up to wipe her eyes, but still not letting go of him. "I'll call in the morning if I need to. I'm all right now…I think."

"You would not be a bother, nor would anyone think you are a ninny, Christine," Erik argued, yet neither did he make any move to release his wife from his arms. "I will do so immediately if it will ease your mind."

"No…really, it was just a dream," she admitted, apparently fully awake now and aware that it had all been in her mind…even if her heart was still beating a mile a minute. "Just…please, can you simply hold me a little longer?"

"Of course," Erik agreed, only too happy to oblige. He wondered if he should bring up the subject of the kiss, especially while Christine was not in an argumentative mood, but he dearly hated the idea of ending such a delicious moment of physical contact. Moments like these were rare to none, and the longer he could keep it going, the happier Erik would be. So, he just sat there, holding his wife as she snuggled against him, her breathing becoming more and more even with each passing minute.

For Erik, time ceased to exist, but soon, he became aware that during some point, Christine had fallen asleep…while still being held in his arms. Not knowing what to do, and realizing that remaining in the position they were was not very conducive for sleep, he ever so slowly began to ease himself back into a horizontal position. Once he was at last lying on the bed, his head resting on his pillow, he breathed a sigh of relief, noting that Christine had not stirred a bit and was still fast asleep. Adjusting his arms a bit, he did his best to get comfortable, enjoying the feel of his wife's head resting on his chest. Erik attempted to remain awake, wishing to enjoy every moment of this, but having her lying against him was so utterly comforting, that he soon drifted off, a happy smile on his masked face.

.

.

As the light of morning drifted through the window and gently woke her from sleep, Christine immediately felt that something was different. She was lying on her side, just as she usually did, but she could sense that she was not alone. Most of the time Erik was up and dressed before her, thus making the sensation of his warm body snuggled against her back, with an arm resting over her middle, a bit startling. When had he come home? Had they talked? And if so, had they reconciled after their fight? She could hardly imagine she would have allowed him to hold her so intimately if she was still upset with him, no matter how wonderful his embrace felt. Christine was almost tempted to wiggle backwards just a bit, in order to get a little closer, yet perhaps _that_ was not the wisest thing to do. Recalling how Erik had reacted when she had put on that skimpy costume, she figured it wouldn't be prudent to give him any wrong ideas. At least not yet.

Christine was still having a hard time recalling what had actually taken place last night, after she turned out the light and went to bed. Yet then, like a bucket of cold water being dumped on her, she remembered her dream, her stomach instantly seizing up in latent panic.

 _It had only been a nightmare_ , she told herself, taking a few deep breaths to clear her mind. Yet still, the fear of losing her father was very real, for even if he was responding well to the medicine, like Dr. Mills had said, something could always go wrong…it had before. But with Erik's help, Christine knew that her father had more chance to recover than he had only a month ago, and she would not let go of that easily. Her father would live…he would recover…and she refused to believe anything different. Still, she had been very touched that Erik offered to both call Leathwood, as well as hold her upon her tearful request last night. In the light of her terrifying dream, their argument seemed so trivial, and Christine was grateful that Erik had not held that against her and refused to offer the comfort she so desperately needed. She would have to think of a way to express her gratitude to him for his actions…but how?

Yet right now, Christine felt she needed to focus on another problem…that of extracting herself from Erik's hold in order to sneak off to the restroom to take care of some urgent business. They still needed to talk, about a good many things, but that would have to wait a few minutes, and the last thing she wanted to do was endure an awkward few moments, should she awaken the man beside her and be forced to confess her immediate needs. So with all the stealth she could muster, she slipped out from under his arm and all but slithered out of bed, tiptoed over to her bathroom door and disappeared inside.

.

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Erik's eyes slowly opened the moment he heard the door shut behind her, leaning up as he supported his head on his palm, resting his elbow on her pillow. What should he do? Pretend to still be asleep when she came back out? Rise and leave the room? He was not quite sure what one did in such a position.

Erik had enjoyed every moment of sleeping so close to his wife, having woke an hour ago and chosen to remain where he was rather than rise and get dressed. It was Saturday, so there would be no rushing off to the office for him, but he knew that with the recital that evening, they still could not lie-abed as he so dearly wished.

He wondered what Christine had thought about waking up with his arm around her and him sleeping so close. Had it frightened her? Disgusted her? They had not discussed his mask, or the reason he wore it, since the day she had agreed to the contract. Thus he was unsure how she felt about his disfigurement. Without having actually seen it, she could easily assume it was something minor…when that was the farthest thing from the actual truth. He was hideous…a monster and an abomination all rolled into one. And he knew that if she were to ever see his face, it would be the end to everything he had worked so hard to achieve. Erik was just glad that Christine did not appear to be the nosy type, never having had to fear her ripping off his mask as they slept. And, he figured, if she ever had a reason to attempt something so deceitful, last night's argument would have been it. Still…here he was, his face fully hidden, and his curious little wife in the washroom, having once again left him with his dignity.

Thus, Erik would give Christine hers as well, and quickly rose from the bed, heading for his own washroom to ready himself for the day.

.

.

When Christine emerged from the restroom, she found Erik had disappeared, but hearing the shower running through the closed door, she easily guessed where he had gone. She breathed a sigh of relief at the apparent reprieve this offered her, and decided that if they were going to rehash the argument over Raoul's visit, perhaps it was best done over a hearty breakfast. So, quickly changing into a pair of jeans and a light blouse, she hurried downstairs and set to work.

.

.

Erik could smell the delicious morning meal wafting up the stairs the moment he stepped out of the bedroom, fully dressed and ready for the day. Descending the stairs, he followed the aroma to the kitchen, arriving just in time to see his alluring little wife flipping a pancake into the air, impressing him greatly as it landed back in the pan correctly.

"Take that, Rachel Ray!" she laughed to herself, before reaching for the bowl in order to pour some more batter beside the other griddle-cake.

"I am pleased to see you in such a fine mood today," Erik told her, watching as she startled just a bit by his unexpected appearance. "I would hate to have you in any way distressed on the day of your recital."

At his mention of this, Christine's eyes grew wide and she raised her hand to lightly smack her forehead in shock.

"The recital!" she gasped. "I completely forgot!" And it was true. Christine's mind had been so focused on their argument, the kiss, and then her nightmare, that it had slipped her mind entirely that today was Saturday…the day of her performance. Suddenly she felt a bit faint, her nerves causing a ball of fear to instantly form in her stomach. "I have to sing…and dance…tonight!"

"And you will do wonderfully," Erik told her, stepping forward and placing his hands on either side of her shoulders in an effort to steady his now swaying wife. "Come over here and sit down for a moment. I'll see to breakfast…you just catch your breath."

After she was safely seated, Erik walked to the sink and got her a glass of water, placing it in front of her before seeing to the pancakes.

"I can't believe I managed to forget…even for a little bit!" she told him, sipping at the water gratefully.

"Well…you have had quite a bit happen in the last twenty-four hours," Erik began tentatively, placing the cooked cakes onto a plate as he poured more batter into the pan. "One could easily understand your distraction."

"Yah…about that," Christine began, wishing to clear the air between them. "I…I wanted to thank you for your… _assistance_ last night after my bad dream. And the fact you were willing to call Leathwood, and not just brush off my fears as something silly, really meant a lot to me. I appreciated everything you did very much, for I don't think I could have returned to sleep otherwise."

"It was my pleasure, Christine," he told her, not daring to turn around and face her, for fear she might see the sheer elation in his eyes.

"However…that being said," she continued, her voice taking on a more stern tone. "That does not excuse your rude behavior last night."

 _Rude?_ Did Christine feel that he had acted rudely by kissing her? Erik's heart plummeted to the floor. Yet, knowing it needed to be addressed, he turned around, his head bowed slightly, ready to receive her scolding.

"I apologize profusely for what happened last night, Christine," Erik began. "I did not mean to…" here he stopped. He could not lie…for he had most certainly meant to kiss her, and enjoyed every second of it.

"To dictate whom I could and couldn't see?" Christine finished for him, causing his head to shoot up as he stared at her in shock. _Oh…that!_ "Erik, I'm not looking to get back together with Raoul. I didn't invite him here, but neither was I about to chase him away with a broom like some raccoon digging through the garbage cans."

At her odd description, Erik couldn't help but chuckle a bit, the vision of Raoul rummaging through a dumpster, with Chinese noodles and hamburger wrappers all over him was just too amusing.

"It is a relief to hear that you no longer see this boy as a potential lover," he admitted, doing his best to grab hold of the positive aspects of this conversation. For the subject matter was downright irritating.

"Is that what you feared?" she questioned. "That he would walk in, give me a flash of his pearly whites, and I would instantly swoon at his feet? Erik…I've never been some starry eyed girl with fantasies of a handsome prince riding up on a white steed."

"That is good, because I am neither handsome, nor a prince. In fact, you are now stuck with the villain in this particular fairy tale," he told her, his tone a mixture of anger and regret. "The evil ogre who locks the princess away in his dark dungeon for all eternity."

"Oh, Erik," Christine said with a roll of her eyes. "Must you always be so melodramatic? You are neither a villain, nor an ogre…and if you have a dungeon in this house, I've yet to find it."

"Do not underestimate me, Christine," Erik replied, though he couldn't help the twitch at the corner of his lips at his statement. He had often desired an underground lair…someplace all to himself, where he could be alone. Yet, to be honest, Erik no longer _wanted_ to be alone. Maybe an underground hideaway for two? Where he and Christine could live in peace, and he would never have to worry about the Raouls of the world stealing her away from him.

"Again…such a drama queen!" she chided him. "I swear, if I took half of what you said seriously, I'd be well on my way to some mental breakdown by now. It must be truly exhausting to live inside your mind, Erik."

Now Erik couldn't keep a bark of laughter from slipping out. Oh, the poor girl, she truly had no idea! Sometimes he had wondered how long it would take a psychiatrist to leap out the window, or slit his throat, in an effort to rid himself of the terrifying things Erik might reveal…should he ever be foolish enough to employ such mental help. No…it was best that his dark thoughts remain his alone, for only he knew how to efficiently battle them.

"Still, the bottom line is, you have nothing to be concerned about," she continued, unaware of Erik's inner monologue. "I married you, and I'm a woman of my word. I will not cheat on you with Raoul…or anyone else for that matter. You have no reason to be worried."

"Oh, but I do, Christine," Erik told her, his eyes growing dark with suspicion. "Your friend is affiliated with the FBI it would seem, did you know this?"

"He…he might have mentioned that he worked in law enforcement," she admitted, not liking where this was heading.

"Well, it is very likely that should you two continue your acquaintance, he might at some point attempt to color your opinion of me," Erik stated. "While I have worked very hard to get to the level of respectability I enjoy now…there was a time in my life when I was not exactly a model citizen, Christine. It would be easy for him to hear things, wrongfully misinterpret them, and then try to influence your opinion of me. In fact, that could very well be the sole reason for him coming here, to renew acquaintances in order to dig up dirt on me."

"I would like to think that is not the case," she said with a bit of hesitation. "However, as you have often pointed out, I know so little about you, your past, and your business, that I don't believe he could glean much from me."

"Still, I would hope that you would not believe anything he might say without speaking with me about it first," he said, his tone almost a pleading one. "I might not be able to tell you everything…but I do promise never to lie to you, Christine. Will you trust me on this point?"

"You do continue to hide a lot of things from me, Erik," she began slowly. "Like where you got that scar, and how you and Amir met…as well as a lot of other things, I'm sure. But so far, you have never given me a reason not to _trust_ you," Christine finished firmly, shocking Erik just a bit by her willingness to remain on his side. "In fact, in all the time I've known you, you have been nothing _but_ honest and direct…sometimes even painfully so." Here she recalled all the stipulations from the contract, spelled out with such detail that Christine was never left in doubt as to what Erik had meant.

"I find being up front about things very helpful in my line of work," he nodded, very pleased by her words. "Misunderstandings can cost a company millions…not to mention precious time that can't afford to be wasted. But when it comes to me and you, Christine, I want us to always be open and sincere. All I ask is that you afford me the opportunity to explain myself, should you ever hear anything that seems…well, detrimental."

"I will, Erik," Christine agreed. "You can trust me."

"Not long ago I told Antoinette that I trusted no one," Erik revealed staring at her as if she were some rare, mythical creature from a fairytale. "But I would truly like to believe that you might be the one person I can."

"I would like that too, Erik," Christine smiled. "However, trust is a two way street, and I would appreciate you showing me the same courtesy and not try and dictate who my friends will be. And who knows, I might never even see Raoul again - it's not as if we run in the same circles anymore."

"I certainly hope not!" Erik said with a bit of a snort. "I would like to think I have much better taste than him, thus we are very unlikely to frequent the same establishments."

"So…you will let all this nonsense just die?" Christine questioned, giving him a pointed stare, as if daring him to disagree with her. "And you won't _forbid_ me from seeing anyone I might wish?"

"No, Christine," he nodded, not at all happy about it, but unwilling to risk angering her once again. "I will say no more on the subject, nor will I prohibit you from visiting with whomever you would like." _Although_ …Erik thought to himself, _he could always simply order Amir to shoot the fop on sight._ But he wasn't about to say _that_ out loud.

"Thank you, Erik," she smiled, looking rather satisfied with herself. "I very much appreciate you saying so." Yet, as the next few seconds of silence continued on, they were suddenly both aware of the white elephant in the room. They had yet to talk about the kiss, for it was not as if they could simply forget about it.

However, any further words were cut short by the sudden screech of the smoke alarm overhead, making them both jump as they became aware of the smoke rising from the pan on the stove.

"The pancakes!" Christine squealed, springing up from her chair and racing forward.

"Stop, Christine!" Erik ordered, halting her progress for fear she would be injured. "Stay back!" Quickly he grabbed the scorched pan and moved it to the sink, watching both smoke and steam billow up as he doused it with running water, a loud hiss emanating from the action.

Erik opened a few windows to allow the air to clear, while Christine waved a towel at the smoke alarm enough times to stop it from screaming. When all was at last silent, and they could once again breathe without coughing, the two of them stood there looking at each other. Erik was not quite sure how Christine would react to all this, she could go several directions, and a few of them involved him receiving a stern scolding. Yet when she suddenly burst out laughing, Erik was shocked.

"Oh, come on…even _you_ have to see the humor in all this," she gasped, unable to halt her giggles.

"We nearly burned the house down, as well as ruined breakfast!" he protested, yet the more he watched his wife, the harder it became not to give in and smile. When the job became impossible, Erik too began to laugh, thoroughly enjoying the light and easy nature of Christine.

This was the scene that Amir came upon as he rushed into the kitchen, a fire extinguisher in his hands, and a look of panic on his face.

"What happened?' he demanded, a bit of smoke still hanging in the air. "Where's the fire?"

"Fire?" Erik questioned, looking at Amir in mock confusion. "What fire?" He then turned and stared at Christine. "Do you know anything about a fire?"

"Why no, Erik," she answered, playing along with his little game. "I'm as perplexed as you are."

"Now come on, you two!" Amir huffed. "The alarm sounded on the security board, and if I don't cancel the automatic call, we'll have at least three fire trucks here in just a few minutes."

"Then by all means, call them and say it was a false alarm," Erik instructed. "As for Christine and I, we are going _out_ for breakfast." He held out his arm, offering it to her in a gallant fashion. "Care to join me for some bacon, eggs, and French Toast?"

"Sounds lovely to me," Christine agreed, taking his proffered arm. "Anything but pancakes."

"Naturally," he nodded, as the two exited the kitchen, leaving Amir scratching his head in confusion.

* * *

 **You know, one day Amir is just going to get fed up with Erik's shenanigans and quit. ha ha. (unlikely)**

 **My thanks to ArtemisBare for giving me the "Lordly Locks" name for Raoul's imaginary hair-care products line. Loved it!**

 **So...we still don't know EXACTLY where Erik went and who he saw...but I think we can all guess.**

 **Wow...Amir and Mrs. Murphy? Antoinette will be heartbroken! ha ha.**

 **Did I fool anyone, or did you all know it was just a dream?**

 **Erik got to spoon with Christine!**

 **Was their chat satisfying, or did it leave you wanting more? (they WILL talk about the kiss...that night after the recital, I promise)**

 **How many of you were worried about the pancakes during the entire discussion?**

 **Recital at Juilliard is next!**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest C:** I thought Raoul was pretty tame compared to how I HAVE seen him written from time to time. ha ha. I like Raoul, so I'm not going to paint him as a BAD guy...just...well...an irritant to Erik. Ahhhhh, so you want Raoul to show up more so he can spill his guts about what he knows about Erik? You are USING him for information, you sneaky reader. ha ha. I will warn Raoul that you are watching him carefully though, and that he better not trick you into liking him and then pull a fast one. ha ha. I think the issue is...everyone is more afraid of upsetting Erik than Christine. ha ha. And can you blame them? Mrs. Murphy was only trying to protect Christine, and Amir...well, we know he can be as irksome as Erik at times. Christine takes no guff! Yep, we got a kiss! And it was a doozy. Bet Christine and Erik will be wanting more. ha ha. So, how did Erik do? Is he out of the doghouse for running off like he did? Thanks.

 **Guest:** Yes, it was the three you guessed, great job! However...both times I tried the FF screen name you sent it came up "no such person", thus not allowing me to forward your snippet. And if by chance you were trying to send me an e-mail address, well not only will the FF site delete that (for spam reasons it says) but I can only send the snippets to an FF account...you did say you had one, but were just not logged in, right? Bottom line is, you have a snippet card, but I have no way of contacting you. Please help!

 **Gummy:** I hated how they portrayed Raoul in LND too! I like Raoul...I really do! Just not with Christine. ha ha. And hey, if ALW wanted to do a sequel...he could have chosen a much better storyline! There are tons of them on here that I would have prefered, and I would have gladly given him ANY ONE of mine! Oh well. Christine did not put up with Raoul's big mistake, that's for sure. But he's very sorry. Erik is an adorable pouter, yes. No, I have never written an Raoul/Chrsitne story, and to be honest...I can't think of any off the top of my head where they are a couple. Have you tried using the 'filter' button and putting in those parameters to see what comes up?

 **Kristin:** You don't have to trust Raoul...just don't hate him. ha ha. Raoul waited outside the gate until Peter - the delivery boy - left and snuck in before the gate closed. Yep, they kissed at last! How did you like their conversation when it did resume? Even if they have yet to address that kiss! Thanks.

 **Bleaky:** I believe you were being sarcastic when you said Raoul was your absolute favorite character...right? ha ha. I am happy you like how I am portraying him though. He was bold as brass to come to the door and just ask for her, right?! I will tell Erik that he can count on you to go after Raoul like a rabid dog...he will appreciate your devotion to him on that. ha ha. Thanks.


	32. Chapter 32

.

 **Guest S:** I was waiting for you to review again so I would know where to put my next response. ha ha. Isn't it nice to not have to worry about cliff hangers, and just keep reading? ha ha. Glad you like the Amir and Antoinette pairing. True, Amir loves her no matter what she thinks her horrible past holds. Yes, with a friend like Erik, one's morals do have to be slightly off kilter. ha ha. And I apologize for pushing you off that itsy bitsy cliff. Antoinette did share well, didn't she? Awwww, my chapter put you in a good mood? Great! Erik can learn to share his feelings too, you know. He's learning. Never feel silly about raving...I LOVE IT! It took me a bit to realize what you meant when you said "Christine you can't just scream things like that." Erik was a bit taken back by her confession. "I'm not into kinky sex" ha ha. Yes, Raoul will show up. The girl he talked about is 'kind of' like the Kay girl, but not really, but sort of. Oh, you'll find out. Erik has a half mask in this one. I try to do it a bit different when I can...and this one seemed to just play into a half mask I think. Ahhh, so I see you 'met' Raoul at last. ha ha. Erik had a lot of back peddling to do after his little snit, right? And Yes, that kiss was good, but it wasn't "I will forgive you for everything kiss." ha ha. Deep breaths...deep and cleansing. And I am pretty sure the answer to question number five on your test tomorrow IS "Erik Thorn." I really do! Thanks.

 **Congratulations to ArtemisBare for being my 1000th reviewer! You win TWO free snippet cards for that!**

 **Wednesday is here...and so is the recital...along with a few other things.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 32**

 **~X~**

* * *

Raoul could stand it no longer! Pushing himself up from the chair he had been sitting in, he began to pace the floor outside the large office door. As other employees walked by, they would give him looks of sympathy, as if they too feared the worst. Getting a call at seven in the morning, telling you that the Regional Director of the FBI wants to see you right away, was never a good thing!

What had he done now?

And even though his boss was also his brother, that didn't make Raoul feel any better about this, in fact…it made it worse. While he and Phil were close, and shared a very good relationship, his older brother was not the type to cut him any slack at work.

 _"The bad guys don't give a damn that you're my little brother, Raoul,"_ Phil has said a million times before. _"In fact, that probably makes you an even bigger target. So the only way I can keep you safe, is by seeing that you train hard, learn well, and do it all on your own merit."_

And that's exactly how it had been from the start, with Raoul having to earn everything himself, with no special treatment from his brother. Still, it had taught him many valuable lessons, and Raoul wouldn't have it any other way.

"Agent Chaney?" came a stern voice from the doorway to the director's office. "Please join me inside."

Raoul stopped pacing and stared at his brother, taking note that there was no softness about his blue eyes that he usually had when they talked informally. Today he was all business, and Raoul suddenly wondered if he might be walking out of here unemployed. He really hoped not.

Following his brother inside, he sat down in the chair he was offered and waited until Phil was seated behind his desk as well. His brother was a handsome man, tall, with blond wavy hair and rugged good looks that left the ladies drooling. Yet, Phillipe Chaney, or Phil, as he liked to be called, was not a womanizer, even with all their family's money. Having married his college sweetheart, Phil and Rachel were still happily wed with their third child on the way. Raoul loved being an uncle, and hoped that one day he too would have what his brother did…a wonderful family. But right now, all he cared about was keeping his job.

"Have I done something wrong, Director?" Raoul asked, not daring to call Phil by his given name.

"That remains to be seen," he replied, leaning back in his chair and staring at his little brother. "Care to tell me what you were doing at Erik Thorn's home yesterday afternoon?"

"What?" Raoul sputtered. "How did you know I went there?"

"Do you honestly think that the FBI does not keep tabs on all the people on our watch list?" he asked, shaking his head in exasperation. "That we don't have Erik Thorn, his office, and his home under constant surveillance? Your car was spotted sitting outside his gate, as well as driving in and then out once again a half an hour later." Phil leaned in and gave him a pointed stare. "Now…what were you doing there, Raoul? Do you wish to jeopardize any operations we have in place concerning Mr. Thorn?"

"I…no…of course not!" he insisted, beginning to sweat just a bit. "I just went there to see an old friend, that's all."

"An old friend? And who might that be?" Phil pressed, a bit shocked by his brother's confession.

"Christine Daaé," Raoul revealed. "You remember her, don't you? She and I dated for a bit in high school."

"Christine Daaé?" Phil got a strange look on his face. "I do recall a pretty girl with brown curls that you hung around with…is that her?"

"Yes, that's her," Raoul nodded. "It would seem she married that Thorn guy, and quite quickly too, if the newspapers and TV reporters got their facts right. I…I just wanted to see her and find out if she was all right. I mean, with all the chatter going on about Thorn and his possible connections with the mob, not to mention a few key players in the drug cartel, I was worried about her."

"I see," Phil said, his tone now unreadable. "You wouldn't have any crazy ideas about rekindling your relationship with her, would you?"

"WHAT? No!" Raoul insisted quite adamantly. "She's married, for Pete's sake! What kind of lowlife jerk to you take me for, Phil? I was only concerned, that's all, I swear."

"That's good to hear," Phil nodded, looking quite relieved. "But still, did you actually believe that driving up to the house, knocking on the door, and asking to see Thorn's wife would be the wisest course of action? What if her husband had caught you on his property? He could have had you arrested for trespassing, and I couldn't have done a damn thing about it. He's not a man to be trifled with, Raoul, and I'm sorry that your friend is now tangled up with him, but you need to stay out of it, do you hear me? You could ruin everything we've worked so hard to do."

"But…Christine's innocent in all this!" Raoul argued. "She has no idea the kind of man she married - and even _that_ I believe was due to some coercion."

"You think she was forced to marry Thorn?" Phil questioned, looking rather upset by the idea. "What makes you say that?"

"Christine has never been impressed by money, not even when _we_ were dating," he explained. "She didn't care that our family was wealthy, and not once did she beg me to buy her stuff, or take her out to fancy places - like so many of the other girls always did. So what on earth is she doing married to a guy like Thorn?"

"Women are often hard to figure, Raoul," his brother told him, seeming to settle down just a bit. "You might have known her in the past…but people _can_ change." When Raoul opened his mouth to protest, Phil held up his hand to silence him. "I promise to look into it, but that's all I can guarantee. Everyone makes choices in life, and often we must pay the price if they happen to be the wrong ones. If Christine is not mixed up in Thorn's operation, then we'll do what we can to protect her. But your involvement with her, and this case, ends now! Do I make myself clear, _Agent Chaney_?"

"Yes, Director…perfectly clear," he replied, though his downcast eyes betrayed his displeasure over the order.

"Good," Phil nodded, rising from his chair and coming over to stand next to Raoul, placing his hand on his shoulder. "Now, enough shop talk. Will you still be joining me tonight, little brother? Rachel is not feeling up to going, so it would be nice to have the company."

"Yes, I guess so," he replied. In truth, Raoul would rather just stay home, but he had promised, and he didn't want to let Phil down. "What time do I need to be ready?"

"I would say about six, and be sure to dress nice," he told him, giving him a warm smile and a wink. "This is a black tie affair."

"Great, another function where I have to wear a monkey suit," he huffed.

"Perfect attire for you then, little brother," he teased. "Don't worry, I'll be sure to put a few bananas in my pocket for later."

"Ha ha, very funny," Raoul said with a roll of his eyes.

.

.

Erik and Christine had a very enjoyable breakfast at a somewhat empty Denny's not far down the road, yet soon returned to the house, both eager to get ready for the recital that night. After insisting on one final rehearsal in the music room, Erik deemed his lovely wife more than ready to blow the audience away with her talent, beauty, and charm. This made Christine blush just a bit, quickly hurrying from the room under the guise of needing to take a shower.

Once she was ready, with her costumes in hand, and everything she would need for a quick change between her skit and the finale, Erik helped her into the limo, offering to ride along as she was dropped off early. Her husband claimed he had a few things to do before arriving at the performance later with all the other guests, but he gave her his word that he would not be late!

Juilliard was in organized chaos, with everyone running around frantically, completely excited about the recital. Christine did her best to remain calm, to listen to all the directions being given, and doing all she could to not let her nerves get the best of her.

She found Barb and Tammi, along with Mitchell and Tyler, in one of the rehearsal rooms, the five of them doing one last run through, and feeling rather pleased by their efforts. Excusing herself once they were finished, Christine hurried off to locate her other group, yet when she did, she quickly became concerned.

"Where's Stacy?" she asked a rather agitated looking Edward.

"In the restroom," he told her, pointing at the nearby door. "She's been running in and out for the past hour!"

"Oh, no…is she all right?" Christine questioned.

"She thinks it's a case of food poisoning or something," Edward said, wringing his hands together in worry.

"I'll go check on her," Christine told him, hurrying towards the ladies room. When she entered, she instantly knew that things were not good, for she could hear the sound of the girl retching in the last stall. "Stacy? It's Christine…is there anything I can do?"

"Can you go back in time and stop me from eating at that sushi restaurant last night?" came the miserable voice of her singing partner. "I just wanna die!"

Christine grabbed a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and ran them under the faucet, soaking them up and then squeezing out most of the water. She then went to the stall next to hers and handed them underneath to the ailing girl.

"Here, wipe these over your face and then put them on the back of your neck, it might help," she offered, wishing she knew how to fix this.

"Thanks…that does feel nice," Stacy answered, apparently having taken her advice. "But…I…I don't think I'm going to be able to go on tonight, Christine," Stacy moaned, now sounding more disappointed than sick. "I've been vomiting for the past hour, and I am so weak I can hardly stand. What am I going to do?"

"You are going to focus on feeling better and not worry about it," Christine instructed, though inside she was anything but calm herself. "I'll go find Mrs. Weatherly and bring her here. I'll also find you a bottle of water to drink, if you can, it's important that you don't get dehydrated."

"Thank you for being so nice about all this," Stacy told her. "I think Edward already hates me for messing things up."

"No, he doesn't hate you, and you can't help it," Christine said soothingly. "It's not like you wanted to get food poisoning."

"No, I didn't…and I never want to get it again, either," she wailed, just before making another deposit into the porcelain bowl.

"I'll be right back, Stacy!" Christine promised, hurrying from the room before she too lost her lunch.

.

.

Once she had found Mrs. Weatherly, and a bottle of water, the two raced back to the bathroom. After nearly an hour of trying every remedy they could think of, from soda crackers and ginger ale, to Pepto Bismol, it was at last decided that Stacy was simply too sick to go on that night. Of course she was extremely disappointed, but her upset stomach and inability to stand without assistance took precedence over that. Thus she was sent to the nurse's office to be tended to until someone could come pick her up.

"What does that mean for the finale?" Edward fretted, now looking like he might upchuck as well. "Who will sing Stacy's part? She's supposed to be first! Will we have to cancel it all together?"

"Not if Christine is willing to sing her part," Mrs. Weatherly stated, turning to look at the worried girl. "Can you?"

"Me? Sing both pieces?" she was stunned. While on one hand, she did know all the verses – grateful that Erik had insisted that she learn the entire song - but to suddenly be the only girl singing what was now a duet, had her a bit rattled. "I…I suppose…if there's no other way."

"Not any that I can think of on such short notice, and the curtain goes up in less than an hour," the vocal coach informed them, checking her watch. "So I would suggest you two get ready, for you know what they say…the show must go on!"

Christine nodded bravely, though suddenly she began to wonder if she might have to toss her cookies over all this. Oh, wouldn't Erik be surprised!

.

.

Meanwhile, Erik had arrived, dressed in a fancy tuxedo with a pristine white shirt and a black bowtie to complete the look. Juilliard's main auditorium was packed, with every ticket sold and not an empty seat in the house. As Erik and Amir made their way to the box reserved especially for their party, he did his best to ignore the many strange looks he received as he passed. It was nothing new, for even his vast wealth could not stop the stares and gasps when they saw his mask. Granted, most people were polite enough not to gawk for long, but still…it was something he had long ago come to expect from just about everyone.

"Here we are," Amir stated, doing his best to distract Erik from all the lookie-loos. "Box Five. Shall we go in, or wait out here for Christine's father and Susan?"

"Go in," Erik insisted, pushing open the door and marching inside. "I informed Miss Kimble where we can be found, and she strikes me as a rather resourceful woman." He then sat down in one of the chairs near the front of the box, loosening the curtain just a bit so that it effectively hid him from view. "I will wait here until the performance begins."

"You know they don't mean to be rude," Amir told him, sounding sympathetic over his employer's facial issues.

"Whether they mean to or not…they are," Erik huffed. "You would think after all this time I would have become used to it. But I still want to strangle anyone who looks at me with that wide eyed stare…as if they can't figure out what I am."

"Or they could just be overcome with awe that they're in the presence of the mighty Erik Thorn, multi-million dollar businessman and philanthropist." Amir suggested, attempting to lighten the mood. "Girls dig that, you know."

"That's multi- _billion_ dollar businessman, if you please," Erik responded, his tone indeed just a bit lighter. "And the only girl I am concerned with is the one who will be on stage tonight."

"Would that be Christine…or my Meg?" came the voice of Antoinette as she stepped through the door and entered the box. "She will be performing as well, you know."

"I am very much aware of that," Erik nodded, gesturing to one of the open chairs. "Why else do you think I invited you to join us up here? For these are the best seats in the house."

"Mrs. Giry," Amir said, offering her his hand as he assisted her to sit. "Allow me to say that you look lovely tonight." And the Persian meant it too, thinking that the black and white form-fitting dress she was wearing really showed off her fine figure.

"Thank you, Mr. Dessan," she responded, blushing slightly at his compliment.

"Please, we are both here socially, not for work," he pointed out. "So I insist that you call me Amir."

"Very well…Amir," Antoinette agreed. "Then you must return the favor and call me Antoinette."

"I would be honored to," he nodded, taking a seat only one chair away.

"Who else is coming tonight?" she asked, noting that there were three more empty places.

"Susan and Charles should be here any minute, and Gerald and his girlfriend are just parking the limo," Erik informed her, leaning over just a bit to see who else might be in attendance below. He wondered if Christine was nervous, though he knew she had no reason to be. Still, his heart went out to her, hoping that any positive thoughts he could send her way would help. He thought about hunting her down, just to give her one final pep talk, but before he could mull that idea over, his attention was drawn to Box Four, directly across the auditorium. Erik's eyes narrowed as he saw Phillippe Chaney, and his younger brother, Raoul, take their seats - the two handsome men laughing and smiling, as if they hadn't a care in the world.

The sight made Erik physically ill.

"Amir," he hissed, pulling the Persian's attention off of Antoinette, as he slid into the seat next to his employer. "Do you see what I see?"

It took only seconds for Amir to discern what Erik meant…or rather _who_.

"What are _they_ doing here?" he whispered, trying to keep Antoinette oblivious of their conversation. "The FBI doesn't sponsor Juilliard…do they?"

"No, but the Chaney family does," Erik explained. "They apparently come from money, even if they all insist on having careers."

"Well, at least they're way over there, and we're as far away from them as possible," Amir nodded. "The last thing we need is to be seen with more feds! Things are already a bit dicey just from that young fool showing up at the house."

"And I don't want him anywhere near Christine either!" Erik insisted. "I promised I wouldn't dictate who she could or couldn't see…but I never said anything about _you_ stopping him from approaching her. See that it does not happen…understand."

"I'll do my best," Amir agreed.

"You'll do better than that," Erik ordered firmly. "You will succeed."

Just then there came a knock at the box door, and in came Gerald and his girlfriend, Charlotte, and right behind them was Susan Kimble, pushing Charles in his wheelchair.

"Look who we found in the elevator," Gerald said, stepping aside so that the pretty nurse could get her patient through the doorway.

"Perfect timing," Erik smiled, standing up and walking over to greet them. "I am pleased you could make it this evening, Miss Kimble. Thank you very much for agreeing to come."

"I'm the one who should be thanking you!" she told him, her red hair all pulled back in a pretty French twist, and the dress she wore making her look like a million bucks. "Not only do I get a night out on the town with a hot date," here she reached out and patted Charles on the shoulder, "but I also get to hear Christine sing! I would have bought a ticket to come myself, but this event has been sold out for months it would seem. So thank you so much for inviting me."

"It was my pleasure," Erik said with a slight bow of his head. He then turned and looked at his father-in-law…the idea that he actually _had_ one still a bit mind boggling. "And you are looking very well tonight, Mr. Daaé," he told the silent man. "Christine was very excited to know that you would be here to see her sing tonight. And from what I've seen of her rehearsing, you are in for a real treat. Now, come down here, right in front, I saved the best seat in the house for you."

Susan pushed his chair down to where Erik directed, putting on the brakes once he was settled. She then occupied the chair next to him, making sure that his head and eyes were facing the stage, not wanting him to miss a moment. They were all set…they now just had to wait for the show to begin.

.

.

Down below, Meg and Christine peeked out from behind the curtain, looking to see if they could spot their guests.

"There, up in Box Five…see, there they are!" Meg pointed, her voice turning high with excitement. "I can see my mother…and look, that must be your father there at the railing! Oh, Christine, he's very handsome," When her friend gave her a strange look, she added. "I mean, for an old guy. Don't worry, he's not my type."

This made Christine laugh, even though inside her stomach was in knots. She wished she could tell Erik of the change in plans, that she would now be singing both hers and Stacy's part during the finale, but there just hadn't been enough time. Oh well, he would find out soon enough. She had almost burst into tears when she saw that her father was there, and truly hoped that he would be proud of her performance tonight. He had always been so in the past, even when she played the second sunflower to the left in her kindergarten spring concert. But this was Juilliard…and the stakes were much higher now.

Yet even though she desperately wanted to please her father…Christine found that the one she truly wished to impress was Erik. He had worked so hard, training her voice, and helping her with her lines, that she wanted to make him proud. It shocked her to realize just how much she relied on him, and how far they had come since their wedding day. If anyone would have told her two months ago that this was where she would be…she would have laughed in their face. But it was all true. She was a wife, a student at Juilliard, and she was about to perform on stage in front of a huge crowd. Christine just hoped she didn't faint.

"Come on, the show's about to start, and we need to be in our places," Meg directed, having been through this several times in the past. "Now…break a leg!"

"I know that's meant as a wish for good luck…but knowing me, I might just do that!" Christine laughed.

"Well…don't!" Meg instructed, her logic irrefutable.

"Fine, if you insist," Christine said in mock frustration. "And don't you break anything either, unless it be the hearts of all your competition. You are going to do great tonight!"

"We both are!" Meg insisted, and after giving her friend a quick hug, she disappeared into the throng of students backstage.

"Well, Christine," she said to herself. "This is it…do or die time." And as she headed off to find Tammi and Barb, she only hoped it would not be the latter.

* * *

 **Sorry to leave you hanging...but I had to same SOMETHING for Friday's post!**

 **Well...are you a bit less concerned about Raoul...or even more so now?**

 **And is it just me, or does anyone else like Phil a whole lot? Not sure why, but I've always had a soft spot for that guy. As a character, he is so underused.**

 **Well, everyone is there and ready for the curtain to rise..."Let my opera begin!" ha ha.**

 **Hope Christine doesn't really break a leg...that would be horrible!**

 **And that as nice of Erik to invite her dad, Susan, Gerald and his girlfriend as well as Antoinette...Amir is happy about that!**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews**

 **Guest from last chapter:** Still waiting to hear back from you on how to get in touch! I want to send you your snippet, but need your FF screen name. Thanks.

 **Guest:** I figured everyone would know it was a dream by the italics...but when my husband read it, he did not figure that out and was all upset that I killed off Charles! ha ha. Silly man, as if I would ever do THAT. Erik is getting more free with his humor, right? Although, Amir might not be as tickled about that idea. ha ha. You want more drama? Ok, more DRAMA coming up. The $100 will come back into play soon enough, fear not. And they do bicker like an old married couple, don't they? Silly men. Well, at least Raoul is taking Erik to 'heck' and BACK. He's not planning on leaving him there, I guess. Thanks.

 **Gummy:** Well thank you for keeping up with my story! And hey, you SHOULD write a R/C story! There has to be others out there like you who like them as a couple. Yes, Leroux did do a LARGE gap in their ages, which could be why Christine has this whole 'father complex' for Erik and does not see him as a potential husband. But, that was written by a man, so really, what does he know about what women want? ha ha. Erik could be just 'watching out' for his little songbird, happy because she is happy, sort of thing. However, one should not discount the attraction to older men...I mean, they are often wiser, sophisticated, in Erik's case rich, and know how to treat a lady. *wink wink* I say go for it, write a story! Thanks.

 **Kristin:** Thanks, glad you enjoyed it. Yes, Amir should go see a stomach specialist, and see if he has...or will soon have...an ulcer. ha ha. Thanks!

 **Cayla:** Of course, Erik was tired of teasing Amir alone...he wanted an accomplice. ha ha. Glad you enjoyed their conversation, and don't worry, they forgot about the pancakes as well. Now I'm sure if it had been bacon cooking, Christine would have watched it like a hawk. Yes, Charles is a fun character...even more so when he can walk and talk. ha ha. Erik is not worried about Christine's voice...but yes, watch out if anyone or anything were to interfere with her ability to perform well! Erik is not exactly the forgiving sort. ha ha. Thanks.


	33. Chapter 33

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 **This is a bonus chapter...for SOME of you. Please read the explanation below, because it IS important.**

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For some odd reason, the FF site linked SOME of you to chapter 33 instead of chapter 32 yesterday. I have no idea why, and I would be the first to assume it was MY fault somehow if it were not for the fact that some of you received and read chapter 32 like you were supposed to, while others got 33. I had loaded 33 into Doc Manager early since I wanted to see how long the chapter was, and that is how it might have glitched and linked some to that...I honestly have NO idea. I learned my lesson though, never upload a chapter before it is time to post it. ha ha.

So, to make up for the mistake, I am posting 33 today and will post 34 on Friday.

 **If you read chapter 33 yesterday, please be sure to go back and read 32 - it might help the story make more sense. ha ha.**

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 **Chapter 33**

 **~X~**

 **AGAIN...Make sure you read chapter 32 yesterday!**

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Up in Box Five, the lights began to dim, telling everyone that the program was about to start. An usher had come to the door with some programs, handing them out so that everyone would know the lineup.

"Look, Charles," Susan whispered, pointing at the little booklet in her hand. "Christine's skit is number four on the list…and then it says she will be doing the finale as well."

"And Meg will be dancing in two ballets," Antoinette spoke up. "She's scheduled right after Christine's skit, and then right before the final act."

"Looks like we have a wonderful night of entertainment ahead of us," Amir grinned, pleased to see Antoinette looking so excited.

"Hush now, it's starting," Erik hissed, holding up his hand for silence, not wishing to miss a thing. He watched as the head of Juilliard took center stage, speaking into the microphone as he opened the evening's festivities. The man droned on for what seemed forever, thanking this person and that, until Erik's nerves were nearly shot. _Just get on with it, you buffoon,_ he thought to himself. _I want to hear my wife!_

At last the man finished, and the curtain was pulled back to reveal the first act, a fine number consisting of dueling cellos and one person on the piano. Next came a dance number by six students, which was very impressive. The third act was a short scene from Hamlet, consisting of what Amir said was a very realistic and entertaining swordfight.

"Only _you_ would focus on that over the acting," Erik chided. "You need more culture in your life."

"And you need more _life_ in your life," he shot back, giving Erik a snort of derision.

"Both of you hush…Christine is next," Antoinette hissed, eagerly waiting for the curtain to rise.

When it did, the stage was made to look like a farm scene, with cardboard hay stacks and a little red barn in the distance. Erik's eyes took in everything at once as he waited eagerly for Christine to appear.

The music began, and in marched Mitchell and Tyler, dressed in their snappy soldier's uniforms. Yet before they could do anything noteworthy, Barb, Tammi, and Christine all popped out from behind the haystacks, wearing their frilly little country dresses, hair in pig-tails, and even had fake freckles painted on their cheeks. Erik thought Christine looked positively adorable.

The three girls began to dance around the boys, singing the song and thoroughly entertaining the crowd. Yet when Erik saw a few of the dance steps Christine performed, he had to swallow hard, his finger rising to his collar, tugging at it as if it were now choking him. Seeing his wife do high kicks and spins like that was causing some very wicked thoughts to run through his mind. He knew Christine had a fine figure, but to see her doing such moves made him appreciate it all the more. Oh, what he wouldn't give to have her alone right now, he would show her a move or two, that was for sure. He found himself wondering if she had perhaps taken that first costume she purchased back to the store, of if it might be hidden in her closet someplace. Erik really hoped Christine had kept it.

Yet, all too soon the piece was over, and the five of them gave a bow before hurrying off the stage, amid enthusiastic applause. Yet no one was clapping louder than Erik.

"Oh, she did wonderfully," Susan said, patting Charles on the arm in delight. "You have a very talented daughter there! You must be so proud."

"How could he not be," Erik agreed, bursting with pride himself. "She was amazing!"

"I think you have my daughter to thank for a few of those fancy dance steps you saw down there," Antoinette chuckled, having noticed exactly how Erik had responded to Christine's high-kicks and spins.

"I will have to send Meg a fruit basket to express my gratitude," Erik nodded. He then turned and looked at her with a sly grin. "Please ask Elizabeth to do that, first thing on Monday, will you Antoinette?"

"Oh yes, I'll get right on it," she laughed, enjoying her boss' quirky sense of humor tonight. Apparently seeing his wife performing on stage had put Mr. Thorn in a very good mood.

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Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the two men sitting in Box Four.

"Did you know that Christine Thorn was performing here tonight?" Phil hissed, looking at his brother through narrowed eyes. "Is _that_ why you agreed to come?"

"No, of course not!" he grumbled back. "You had tickets to this for at least a month, and you're the one who invited me! I only found out about Christine two days ago! How was I supposed to know she'd be in the show tonight…or that her husband would be sitting in Box Five. Weren't _you_ the one who said the agency had him under constant surveillance, so why didn't _you_ know about all this?"

Phil was silent for a moment, contemplating his brother's words, and in the end, he could see that his logic was sound. Still, it bothered him to no end that just across the way sat the very man he had told his little brother to steer clear of.

"Once the program's over, we're leaving…immediately," he told Raoul firmly. "No speaking to anyone, no congratulating the performers, we just get up and go."

"Why does Erik Thorn have you so spooked, brother?" Raoul demanded. "I know he's bad news, but I've never seen you so dead set on avoiding someone before."

"I'm not spooked!" he insisted, looking offended by the claim. "I simply know that nothing good can come from confronting him in public. Just trust me on this…and stay away from him, _and_ that ex-girlfriend of yours."

"Fine," Raoul huffed. "But if I were a field agent, I would like to think you'd confide in me more."

"And if you _were_ a field agent, I might," Phil informed him. "Your opportunity to take the exams will be coming up in the fall. Just keep doing your job, don't get yourself into any trouble before then, and I'm sure you'll do fine." He gave a deep sigh, trying to put Erik Thorn out of his mind. "Now, let's try and enjoy the rest of the show, shall we?"

"Sure," Raoul nodded, his eyes returning to the stage, yet his mind was still firmly set on Christine.

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"Antoinette, how about you and I switch seats for the next performance," Erik suggested, rising from his chair. "I believe you will wish to have a front row view for Meg's dance recital."

Antoinette was surprised by her employer's thoughtfulness, and thanked him profusely, perching on the very edge of the seat in eager anticipation of her daughter's big moment. As the curtain opened and the delicate ballerinas emerged, four of them dancing at once, it was easy to pick Meg out from the rest. Not only because she was the only blond of the group, but she was also the most talented as well. Even Amir, who was uncouth and uncultured, according to Erik, saw her star quality shining through.

As he observed Antoinette watching Meg dance, Amir found himself thinking back to when he had first met the indomitable Mrs. Giry and her lovely daughter. The two were staying in a rather run down woman's shelter, where they shared one little corner of an already crowded room. Until then, Amir had been rather jaded, working with Erik and doing anything and everything required to see they came out on top. Yet one look at the lovely woman who had contacted them for help, not to mention the little blond girl with wide expressive eyes, and suddenly Amir could feel his heart truly beating once again.

Antoinette made him want to help her…made Amir want to be a better person, and perhaps one day, someone a woman like her could love. However, at the time he had nothing to offer, besides more trouble, so out of respect, Amir had kept his feelings to himself…feelings that had never completely gone away.

When the dance number was over, the Persian leapt to his feet, clapping wildly, simply amazed by the young woman Meg had become. He found he couldn't have been more proud of her if she were his own daughter. Antoinette too was on her feet, brushing away tears of pride. To say she was a pleased parent would have been an understatement.

"Didn't she do so well?" Mrs. Giry asked, turning to face everyone once the dancers had left the stage.

"Very lovely," Susan assured her. "She danced like she had wings."

"I might not know much about dancing, having two left feet of my own, but even I thought that was awesome," Gerald told her.

"Me too!" Charlotte chimed in, her face bright with delight. "This whole program is marvelous."

"Just wait until Meg's next part, she gets to do a solo!" Antoinette gushed. "I wish I could say she gets her grace and talent from me, but I fear my strengths lie in academics…not the arts."

"Oh, I'm sure you can cut a rug with the best of them, Antoinette," Amir told her. "Don't sell yourself short."

"You'd change your tune pretty fast after I stepped on your toes so many times they bled," she laughed.

"I just might have to take my chances and find out for myself," he told her, quickly silencing her laughter as she turned away with a blush. Everyone there, except for Erik, noticed the rather interesting exchange, with Gerald and Charlotte even nudging each other with knowing smiles.

Just then the next performance began, and everyone quickly settled down, not wishing to be rude and converse during someone's big moment.

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The rest of the evening went well, with many wonderfully talented students displaying their abilities and skills. Meg's second piece was even a bigger hit than her last, with her solo performance receiving thunderous applause, and not just from those sitting in Box Five. Antoinette, who had occupied Erik's chair once more, was beaming with pride by the time her daughter left the stage the second time.

"It is good to see that the money I spend each month keeping your daughter in this school is worth every penny," Erik complimented, as he and his legal counsel switched seats again. "Meg truly has a gift, Antoinette."

"Thank you, Mr. Thorn," she said, in full agreement. "I'm just glad she has the chance to pursue her dream. I never could have made it come true on my own. I owe you a great deal."

"As I just said…it is worth every penny," he smiled. "Now, I believe it is time for Christine's final act. And I can say with full confidence, that you are going to be impressed."

"Not that you're bias or anything, right?" Amir laughed, earning a scathing glare from Erik.

"I assure you, I am perfectly capable of being objective when it comes to music…and I can guarantee that Christine has more talent in her little finger than all those performing here tonight combined." He then turned and looked at Antoinette. "Except for Meg, of course. Yet her abilities lie in dance…not singing."

"I can vouch for that," the older woman laughed. "She likes to sing in the shower, and often I must leave the house simply to spare my poor ears."

Just then the head of the school returned to the stage, and Erik prepared himself for another long winded speech, yet his announcement had the masked man sitting up in complete shock.

"I know the program states that our finale was to be sung by three of our lead vocalists here at Juilliard," the man said in a rather apologetic tone. "But it is my unhappy duty to inform you that it will now be sung as a duet."

 _"What?"_ Erik hissed, panic filling his eyes.

"Oh, I hope nothing has happened to Christine," Susan said, looking at Charles sympathetically. "She looked fine for her last part." The kindly nurse really didn't want her patient to be disappointed by his daughter suddenly getting ill and putting an end to her big night.

"Listen..." Amir instructed. "The man's talking again."

"The lovely and talented Stacy Martinez has unexpectedly taken ill, and will be unable to perform this evening. Thankfully, I am pleased to announce that the show will go on!" There was a mixture of relieved clapping and murmurs of regret over the ill student. "So without further ado, I give you the finale of our program this evening. Con te partirò, or as most of you know it, 'Time to Say Goodbye', sung by Christine Thorn and Edward Piangi!"

"Oh, thank goodness! Christine is all right!" Susan squealed, gripping Charles' arm in relief.

"And it looks like she'll be singing both parts," Gerald added, being very familiar with the song, after having heard Christine go over it so many time in the car.

"Does she know the other girl's lines?" Antoinette asked, unsure of Christine's abilities. "It's in Italian…isn't it? How will she know the words?"

"She will know them because I taught them to her… _all_ the words, to the entire song," Erik told her, a look of pride in his eyes. "Everyone could have dropped out and she could have done the piece all on her own. Christine will do wonderfully."

They all watched anxiously as the curtain opened, revealing a tall man with dark colored hair in a black suit and tie. Standing next to him was Christine, who had not only changed into her black dress and pearls, but even had time to pull her hair up into a rather fancy French twist.

"She looks nervous," Susan said in a worried voice. "I swear I can see the poor thing shaking from here."

Erik saw it too, and he could feel his heart go out to her. If only he was able to offer her a bit of encouragement. Yet her eyes were glued to the floor, not even daring to raise her head towards the audience. Oh, he couldn't let his little angel fail! So, leaning forward, Erik did something he had not attempted in years…hoping that it would do the trick.

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Christine had no idea what had come over her, for one minute she was handling things pretty well, and then the next thing she knew she was a complete jangle of nerves. It could have been the fact that she had never actually sung Stacy's lines in practice, or perhaps it was the panicked look she could see in Edward's eyes. If he decided to freeze up now, then they would both be sunk. The trouble was, Christine had the first lines…and twice the amount she had originally signed up for! She was seriously starting to believe she couldn't do this.

 _"Just relax, Christine,"_ came a familiar voice, whispered so softly in her left ear that at first she thought she was just imagining it. _"You have nothing to worry about, you know the song and you will do wonderfully."_ This time when the voice spoke, Christine literally turned her head to see if Erik was indeed standing there beside her. _"Up here, Christine, in Box Five,"_ he instructed, a slight chuckle in is voice, having apparently seen her confusion.

Doing as instructed, she did tip her head and search the balcony, until she found who she was looking for…Erik. Their eyes locked and suddenly everything around her faded away, leaving only the two of them.

 _"Keep your eyes on me, Christine,"_ came the breathy voice in her ear. _"Pretend it is just you and I, at home in the music room."_ He then paused, placing his hand over his heart. _"Sing for me, my angel of music…sing only for me."_

And just like that, Christine's fears were gone. She was home, she was safe, and she had Erik there to catch her if she should fall. Yet, his words had offered her the strength she needed, and she knew that nothing was going to stop her now. Giving him a quick wink, letting him know she had heard every word, she pasted on a big smile, stared out at the audience, and as the music began to play…she opened her mouth and sang.

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Oh, Erik had truly found bliss. The acoustics in the auditorium were superb, taking her voice, cradling it lovingly, and then projecting it out to everyone in the audience. And while he knew that they would all be just as spellbound as he was, Erik was certain that none of them could appreciate the pureness of her tone, the perfect pitch, and flawlessness of her voice. Only _he_ knew…only _he_ understood…for Christine was singing for him alone. Closing his eyes, Erik allowed her voice to transport him to a place he had only dreamed of, where music alone reigned on high. There Christine was the empress over all, and he was her humble servant, happy to simply bask in her glory. This was what Erik had always desired, to know the true meaning of beauty…and it was all thanks to Christine.

When she had finished both parts, and Edward began to sing, Erik's eyes opened, drinking in the sight of his little angel, standing there so full of confidence and glory. He could tell that the audience was in awe, and even though her male companion was belting out his lines rather well, Edward's voice was nothing compared to Christine's. No, she was in a class all by herself.

Erik held his breath, just waiting for Christine to join the man in the final part of the song, and when she did, he could feel his heart soar along with the music, each note of hers taking him higher and higher until he felt he would never return to earth. Yet, as the two finished, and the audience went wild, giving them a standing ovation, Erik nearly collapsed from sheer ecstasy. His Christine had triumphed, winning the hearts of all who had been privileged enough to hear her. All except for Erik that is…for his heart she already possessed, having held it gently in the palm of her delicate hand since the moment they had first met.

Erik at last was able to make it to his feet, clapping until his hands stung from the action. Everyone else in the box joined him, save for Charles, but all knew that if he could, he would have done so as well.

"Wow, Gerald," Charlotte said in amazement. "You said she was good, but I never imagined she could sing like that! She's amazing!"

"That she is," Erik nodded, unwilling to take his eyes off of his wife. Once more their gaze met, and he lifted his fingers to his lips, then held them out to her, offering her not only a kiss…but his heart as well. _"Bravo, my darling Christine…the angels wept tonight in the presence of your glory,"_ he told her, sending his voice down to the stage only for her.

He watched her smile widen and she placed her hand over her heart, bowing her head in humble acceptance of his flattering words.

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Christine was completely taken aback by all the adulation, not having expected such a response. She and Edward took their final bows, leaving the stage with the crowd still cheering for more, begging for an encore from the two performers. When they were at last behind the curtain, they were mobbed by just about everyone, patting them on the back, giving hugs, and shaking their hands. Yet all Christine wanted was to make her way up to Box Five and see the men who had made tonight possible…Erik and her father.

"You two were marvelous!" the head of Juilliard told them, grinning from ear to ear. "You truly brought down the house."

"Didn't I tell you that Christine was Juilliard material?" Professor Reiner boasted, speaking as if he were personally responsible for her success.

"And Edward, you did a splendid job," Professor Stanley told him, coming up to shake his hand. "You and Christine have made us proud."

The two of them thanked the men for their compliments, expressing their gratitude for being offered the chance. Christine was beginning to feel a bit claustrophobic, surrounded by so many people, when suddenly, Meg was at her side, grabbing her hand and pulling her through the throngs of people and into an open space.

"Dang girl!" she squealed. "Where have you been hiding that voice of yours? You were simply perfect!"

"You heard me sing before, Meg," she laughed, loving her friend's enthusiasm.

"But never like that! Tonight you took things to a whole new level!" the pretty dancer laughed. "And I'm certain your husband and father were blown away as well!"

"Can you show me how to get up to them?" Christine begged, not familiar enough with the halls and passageways to manage it herself.

"Of course, stick with me," she nodded, once more taking hold of her hand and practically dragging her down an empty corridor.

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Erik returned to his seat, taking a few deep breaths as he did his best to calm his wildly beating heart. He couldn't recall ever being this happy. Christine was now everything to him…his hopes, his dreams, his future, but most importantly, _his wife._ Only she could give him a true reason for living, as well as bring his music to life. _Only Christine._

He then looked over at Charles, the older man still staring blankly at the stage, and Erik felt a sudden stab of pain over the man's condition. What was her father feeling right now? Obviously joy and elation over his daughter's success…but there had to be a measure of frustration, fear, and desperation as well. For here, on Christine's big night, Charles had not been able to clap, or stand, or even give her a hug after her success. It would kill Erik to be deprived of those things, and yet, her father was the one who deserved to give them to her the most. And for the first time, he found himself truly hoping that Charles Daaé would recover, not simply because he knew it would make Christine happy…but because Erik Thorn _wanted_ him to.

Before he could think more on this, the door to the box burst open and in rushed Meg and Christine, the two girls out of breath, but grinning from ear to ear.

"So, how'd we do?" Meg demanded, rushing into her mother's arms. "Did we bring it or what?"

"You two were the prettiest and most talented girls on stage tonight!" Amir stated, enormously proud of them both.

"Ah, Christine," Erik said, rising from his chair and holding out both his hands, loving the fact that she took hold of them eagerly, not even hesitating for a moment. "You were divine…a true diva in all her glory. You have a real gift, and a promising future ahead of you."

"If so…it is all because of you, Erik," she stated, humbly giving him the credit he deserved. "You made all this possible."

"Anything for you, Christine," he whispered, bringing both her hands to his lips and kissing them gently, his eyes never leaving hers.

Christine was lost for a moment, doing her best to think straight after such a whirlwind night, and now Erik's endearing gesture. Yet when Susan turned her father's wheelchair around, Christine couldn't help but shift her attention to him.

"Papa! Did you see me? Did you hear?" she asked, gently slipping out of Erik's grasp and kneeling down in front of her father's chair. Christine took hold of his hands, her face ready to split in half due to how wide her smile had grown. "I was so nervous when they asked me to sing both parts, but what else could I say, without Stacy, _someone_ had to or the song would have been canceled."

"Of course you had to sing it," Susan insisted, her face alight with joy. "And you did so wonderfully too! I'm certain your father is just bursting with pride over your performance."

"I do hope so," Christine nodded, grateful to the nurse for her kind words but she would have given anything to have heard them from her father's own lips. Still, he had been there, he had seen, and for now, that would have to be enough. "Oh, Papa, I can't tell you how much of a thrill it was, then the audience all stood, and I was so shocked! It all feels like a dream, as if it never truly happened, but I know it did, because my hands are still shaking and my heart won't stop beating like a big old bass drum." Here she reached up with one hand and cupped her father's cheek. "Are you truly proud of me, Papa? I wish you could let me know if you are." And at that very moment, Christine felt something she had almost given up hope of ever feeling again… _her father's fingers moved!_ "PAPA?" she squealed, so stunned that she nearly fell backwards, yet Erik was right there to catch her.

"Christine…what is it?" he asked, noticing the look of pure shock on her face. "What is the matter?"

"His…his fingers…they moved! Papa moved his fingers!" she nearly shouted. "I felt it…I FELT it!"

"What?" Susan said, rushing to kneel beside Christine. "It's still rather soon for any signs to be showing that the medication worked. Are you sure you didn't just imagine it, Christine?"

"No, I swear, I felt his fingers move!" she insisted, looking up at her father in pure elation. "I did!"

"Here, let me try something," Susan insisted, taking Charles' hand out of Christine's grip and laying it out on the arm of the wheelchair, palm up and fingers out. "Now, Charles, honey…can you do it one more time? Please, I really think your daughter needs you to do this. Try really hard, all right? Just a little movement, that's all you have to give us. Just something… _anything."_

Everyone was silent as the grave, all eyes trained on Charles Daaé's fingers, holding their breath in anticipation.

And then…there it was! The barest of movement, but it was clearly visible and everyone saw it. A collective cry of excitement went up through the group, as Christine burst into tears, throwing her arms around her father's neck as she cried her heart out with joy.

"Oh, Papa…you are coming back to me…you are!" she managed to get out between sobs. "This night just got a million times better! Thank you, Papa…thank you for being a fighter. I love you so much."

"And if he could, I'm certain he would say the same thing back to you, dear," Susan assured her, wiping at her own eyes as tears slipped down her cheeks as well.

Christine stared at her father for a few more seconds, and then quickly rose to her feet, spinning around she launched herself at Erik, her arms wrapping around his neck as she engulfed him in an exuberant embrace.

"And thank _you_ , Erik," she said, her happiness knowing no bounds. "Thank you for everything you've done to make my father well. I will forever be grateful for the day you came into our lives!"

Erik was speechless…for here was Christine, holding him, and thanking him, of her own free will! This wasn't a case of her having a bad dream, or in deep despair and needing to be comforted…no, this was done out of joy and gratitude. And maybe…one day…hopefully in the not so distant future, she might do it out of genuine love. Oh, Erik could only pray that dream would come true.

"You…you are very welcome, Christine," he finally managed to say, allowing his arms to reach out and encircle her in return. "I am so happy for you, my dear…for the both of you."

And Christine was happy as well. Not only had the program been a huge success, but her father had moved his fingers! He was truly getting better, and the man she currently had her arms wrapped around was the one who had made it all possible. And as she stood there, enveloped in his warm embrace, she couldn't imagine a more perfect night than this!

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Meanwhile, over in Box Four, Phil Chaney slipped his arms into his coat, getting ready to leave.

"Come on, Raoul," he grumbled. "I said we had to go…now!"

"I'm coming," the younger brother said with a sigh, yet he couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene directly across from him. Christine was embracing Erik Thorn! Could she truly having feelings for him? A masked madman who might very well be the head of the underworld? How could someone he thought he knew change so much? And yet, there it was, right there in front of his eyes.

"Raoul," Phil said once more, heading for the door.

"All right already," he huffed, standing up and grabbing his own jacket. He was just about to go, when he recognized someone else in the box…someone who had already caught his eye that evening. Wasn't that the pretty blond ballerina from tonight's performance, standing next to Christine? Were they friends? Suddenly a thought sprang to his mind, one he wasn't particularly proud of, but right now Raoul was desperate. He might not love Christine, or wish to get back together with her, but she was still his friend, and he felt honor bound to protect her…any way he could. Reaching down and grabbing the program, he scanned the names quickly. _Megan Giry._ His brother might have forbid him to associate with Christine, but he never said anything about getting to know one of her friends, now did he?

 _Yes…this might just work_ , he thought to himself as he followed his brother out the door.

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 **Oh...Raoul, Raoul, Raoul...you are sticking your nose where it is NOT wanted or needed. But we know you must, and hey, it should prove fun to see you bumbling your way through all this. ha ha.**

 **So, how did Christine do? And Erik was a big help with his voice throwing too, wasn't he?**

 **Everyone was so proud of her...and Meg!**

 **And her father moved his fingers! He is on the mend! Christine is so happy, and she told Erik he was responsible for it all...he loved that, and the free hug!**

 **Now we just have to see what happens when they get home!**

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Guest Reviews

Since I had not planned on posting this till tomorrow, I have not had time to add in my guest reviews, and if I want to send this off before I head to work today, I must do so without them. Rest assured that I will answer them all in tomorrows chapter - along with any I am sent today for this one.

Thank you in advance.


	34. Chapter 34

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 **Hello! Now remember, there was a slight mix up with the FF site, (some got linked to chapter 33 instead of chapter 32) thus prompting me to post three days in a row, so if you missed a chapter, go back and read them in order. 32, 33, and now 34.  
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 **No skipping any or you won't know what is going on. ha ha.**

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 **Onward!**

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 **Chapter 34**

 **~X~**

* * *

After a few more minutes of visiting, Meg and Christine were required to head back down to the stage area to check in with their professors. There was a fancy celebration planned for the performers afterwards, and while Meg wanted to stay and celebrate, Christine simply wished to go home. This was fine with Erik, for even though he would have stayed if that had been her desire, he was not exactly the party type.

Thus, as Gerald brought the limo around, Christine said goodbye to her father at the curb, waiting for the Leathwood van to come pick him and Susan up.

"Thank you, Papa," she whispered into his ear, before kissing his cheek. "Having you here tonight, and knowing you are getting better was the best gift you could have ever given me. I promise to come by first thing in the morning and talk with Dr. Mills about your progress." Once more she leaned over and wrapped her arms around him in a long embrace. "I love you."

"Here's our ride," Susan announced, watching as the little van with wheelchair accessibility pulled up. A kind looking man hopped out and quickly lowered the automatic ramp for them. "Thank you again for the wonderful evening. I had the best time, and I can pretty much guarantee that Charles did as well. We'll see you soon!"

"Yes, you will," Christine laughed, still riding high on the night's excitement. She watched as they got her father settled in the van, bracing his wheels so he would ride safe all the way back to Leathwood. "Good night!" she called, waving as they drove away, unable to wipe the smile off her face.

"He moved his fingers Erik! He moved his fingers!" she all but squealed, grabbing hold of his hand and giving it a squeeze.

"He wanted you to know how proud he was of you tonight," Erik nodded, knowing just how much this small action had meant to her. Just like her taking hold of his hand right then had meant to him. They were making progress… slowly perhaps, but progress nonetheless.

"Well, I better catch a cab if I want to get home before the sun comes up," Antoinette laughed. "I told Meg I would leave the car for her, that way she can leave the party whenever she wants."

"Nonsense," Amir stated, a frown on his face. "There is plenty of room in the limo with us, we can drop you off."

"No...really, I don't want to be a bother," she objected, unsure of what Erik might have to say about Amir's generous offer.

"You're no bother, Antoinette," Christine assured her linking her arm through the older woman's as she pulled her along. "We'd be happy to see you home safely…wouldn't we Erik?"

"As my diva commands," he told her with a smile. Christine could have suggested they drive Mrs. Giry to Florida that night and he would have happily agreed.

"Very well, then," Antoinette agreed, once more shocked by her boss' generous spirit that evening. "I accept."

.

.

The ride home was full of talk and laughter, with Gerald keeping the privacy screen down so that he and his girlfriend could join in the conversation. They ended up dropping Charlotte off first, since she lived in the city, then Antoinette – with Amir kindly offering to walk her to the door…for safety reasons, of course. Then it was back to the mansion, where Gerald let them off at the front door, before saying goodnight and heading to his little cottage among the trees.

"It was an evening to remember, Christine," Amir told her with a wink. "Erik was correct…you do sing like an angel." Then tossing his jacket over his shoulder and suspending it by one finger, he headed for the guest house, humming a happy tune as he went.

"I'm glad he's your friend, Erik," Christine mused, watching the man disappear into the darkness.

" _Friend_ is a rather strong word to describe my relationship with Amir," Erik scoffed. "I would say he is more of a pain in my…"

"ERIK!" Christine rebuked, cutting him off before he could finish.

"Neck…I was going to say neck," Erik countered.

"Right, sure you were," she chuckled, taking him by the hand and heading inside.

"I was!" Erik continued to insist, only to receive a dramatic eye roll from his wife.

.

.

Once they were inside, with the doors locked and the security system back on, Erik suggested they head upstairs. It was nearly midnight by then and even if they had no place to be the next morning, Erik knew at some point Christine wanted to go visit Leathwood and speak to Dr. Mills.

His exuberant wife kept up a steady stream of chatter all the way up to the bedroom, describing how things had gone behind the curtain that night. Erik listened with rapt attention, loving how animated she was. It had been a red-letter night for both of them, and even he couldn't stop grinning over all that had happened.

"…and then when it was time for us to go on, Tammi nearly tripped over someone's violin case and her shoe came off and skidded so close to the curtain that we were afraid it would slip under and everyone would see it," she was saying, laughing at the visual it would have created for the audience. "But she got it back on just in time and we made our entrance perfectly."

"And I wouldn't have expected anything less, Christine," Erik told her with pride. "You are a professional, through and through."

"Well, I don't know about that," she admitted, turning the handle to enter the bedroom. "I mean I thought for a moment I was going to freeze up."

"But you didn't, and that's what counts," he assured her.

Yet when Christine walked into the room she gave a gasp of surprise. For every surface in the room was covered with vases of roses. Red ones, yellow ones, pink ones and even an exotic purple. It was a veritable flower shop!

"Oh, Erik!" she squealed, racing over to bury her nose in the closest bouquet. "When did you do this?"

"After I dropped you off at Juilliard," he admitted, quite pleased by her reaction to his efforts. "I wanted to bring some to give you after your performance, but apparently Gerald's girlfriend, Charlotte, is allergic and I couldn't have kept them with me or in the limo…so I figured this would have to do. Do you like them?"

"Like them?" she questioned, her eyes darting from one side of the room to the other. "I love them! I can't believe you did all this for me!"

"I would do this and so much more, Christine," Erik insisted. "And after tonight, you deserve each and every blossom."

"Tonight was perfect, Erik…absolutely perfect!" Christine gushed. "First the recital, then my father moving his fingers. I can't tell you how happy I am right now. And it was so wonderful being on stage like that!" she said, spinning around with her arms open wide. "It was such a rush! I don't think I'll sleep a wink all night! All I want to do is dance, and sing, and then dance some more!"

Yet as she said this, her heel caught on the carpet and she stumbled forward, nearly falling on her face, but Erik reached out and caught her before that could happen. Pulling Christine close to him in order to steady her, he stared down into her bright blue eyes, feeling his heart beat wildly at her nearness.

"Well…perhaps I'll stick to just singing…and leave the dancing to Meg," she stammered, apparently also being affected by how close they now were.

"I thought you danced divinely tonight," Erik told her, his voice now deep and husky, as one of his hands reached up to stroke the back of his fingers down the side of her face. "The way your graceful body moved tonight had me… _riveted_."

Christine could hear the desire in his voice, and as a shiver of excitement ran through her, she realized she wanted to hear more. Yet, speaking was not what Erik had in mind, and before she had a chance to think clearly, his lips were on hers and she no longer cared about anything else. The last time they kissed, it had been wild and frenzied, done in the heat of the moment. While this time…oh, it was sweet and tender, with an underlying hint of passion. Christine allowed Erik's lips to explore her own, tasting, nipping and making her want even more.

Erik was her mysterious, confusing, irritating husband…who could also be the most generous, thoughtful, and supportive man when she needed him to be. He had made her dream of attending Juilliard come true, offering her constant encouragement and inspiration. Christine had entered this marriage with little to no hope of compatibility, but day by day, Erik had allowed her to see more and more of his true self. And while she knew that given time, she might indeed be able to care for him, perhaps even develop deep and abiding feelings for him, Christine still felt the need to hold back. Erik was still keeping so many secrets from her, that she was unable to let go of her hesitation and give herself over freely.

Thus, when she felt his fingers slip around to her back, searching for zipper that might free her from her dress, Christine pulled back. Oh, she could feel the lust still surging within her, and she could clearly see it reflected in Erik's eyes as well. But when Christine gazed up at her husband of only three and a half weeks…she knew she was not ready to take things any farther. Yes, she appreciated him, and was more than grateful for all he had done for her father…yet, gratitude was not a strong enough foundation to base a physical relationship on. She wanted…well, _love_.

"I…I think we should turn in now," she told him, stepping backwards as her fingers played nervously with her wedding ring…the constant reminder of their rather unorthodox marriage.

"Christine," Erik whispered, stepping closer - unwilling to see this moment end. Yet he stopped when she held up her hands, palms out, demanding him to halt.

"Erik…please," she all but begged, the panic rising in her voice. "I…I'm not ready yet. You said a month or two…it's only been three weeks. Please, don't ask it of me…not yet."

Erik's back stiffened, his hands slipping behind him as he entwined his fingers, his jaw now tight and tense.

"I see," he nodded, his tone quite unreadable. "Forgive me, Christine…I apparently misread the situation." He then took a deep breath and stepped back. "I will not pressure you any further." Erik abruptly turned and headed for his side of the room, slipping out of his jacket and tugging sharply at his bow-tie, unwilling to even look in her direction.

"Erik, please don't be upset with me," she pleaded, hating to see him this way. "We had such a wonderful evening, let's not ruin it now. I can't help it if I'm not in the same place you are…at least not yet. I know I must come to terms with it soon, but…I…I'm frightened."

At her words, Erik spun around, a near look of panic in his eyes.

"Frightened…of what? Me?" he asked, sounding aghast at the idea. "Whatever for? Have I done anything to cause you to be concerned, Christine? Tell me what I have done."

"No…I'm not afraid of _you_ , per se," she quickly clarified, realizing that he must now fear her crying foul and demanding the contract to be voided. "Well…in a way I am, but not because I think you might harm me. But…but I'm not some naive little girl, Erik. I paid attention in health class, I know what's involved when a man and a woman sleep together. And yes, the act of physical love scares me a little. I can't help that."

"Oh…I see," Erik nodded, visibly relieved that her fear did not stem from him alone, but more from the unknown aspects of sexual intercourse. "Yet, if you are indeed familiar with the concept, you must also realize that the act can be very enjoyable as well…pleasurable even."

"Of course I know that," she stated, turning away as she blushed just a bit. "I mean, if it wasn't any fun, why would anyone do it…and with such frequency?" Here she paused just for a moment. "Other than for reproductive reasons, of course."

"Naturally," Erik nodded, having for a moment completely forgotten _that_ part of the contract. The production of a child had been one of the stipulations, after all. Erik then walked slowly back over to her and reached out to take one of her fidgeting hands, pulling her gently to the wooden bench at the foot of the bed. Assisting her to sit, he took his place next to her, doing his best not to appear in any way threatening. "Christine…will you tell me exactly what it is that frightens you about us being intimate?"

 _"Tell you?"_ she repeated, looking shocked. "You want to _talk_ about it?"

"Were you not the one who said you wanted an open marriage?" he pressed, using her own words against her. "That we should be honest with each other about the things which concern us both? And since it is obvious that the idea of making love is a cause of great concern to you, it in turn affects me. Do you not agree?"

"Uuuuggg!" Christine groaned, burying her face in her hands in sheer mortification. "This is more embarrassing than when my father had to take me bra shopping for the first time when I turned twelve!" Yet, after a few moments, she took a deep breath and lifted her head. Staring at the wooden double doors in front of her, she began to speak, though not daring to look in his direction. "Well, I know that it will be somewhat… _uncomfortable_ the first time. And there's nothing you can do to prevent that, so don't even try and placate me on the subject. I'm not saying that I blame you in any way, but you can't fault me for being concerned."

"I would never want you to feel hesitant about expressing your feelings to me, Christine," Erik assured her. "Please, go on."

"And then there's the whole issue with us being…well, _naked_ together," she continued her face turning redder with each sentence. "Since, other than a doctor or two, I've never been fully unclothed around someone of the opposite sex since…well, since I was old enough to no longer need my father's help to dress and bathe myself. Being that vulnerable with another person speaks of an intimacy that we have yet to achieve, and while I admit that I find you…well, desirable…I just don't _know_ you well enough yet. At least not well enough for _that_." Then, almost shyly, she glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye. "However…I have to say…that kiss right now, and the one from the other night were…rather enjoyable."

At first Erik was stunned into silence over her words. He had feared bringing up the kiss from last night, and had begun to believe she had found the one they had just shared repugnant. Yet to now hear from her own delicate lips, that she too had been pleased by them, well that was enough to send him soaring once again.

"I _too_ found the kisses we shared extremely pleasurable, Christine," Erik replied, a thrill going through him as the memory of the event flooded over him. "And I would like to think that further expressions such as those might lead to you feeling more comfortable with the idea of us being intimate. For I would very much like to kiss you more often, if you would allow me." He then reached out and took hold of her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I must confess, that while I _have_ had physical relationships before, never have I been someone's _first_. Thus, I fear that I am unqualified to offer you any assurances or guarantees about what you might experience. I can only promise that I will be as gentle and patient as you need me to be, in order to make it as pleasant and enjoyable as possible. I only want you to be happy, Christine, and I am willing to do anything to see that you are."

"Even…even waiting up to two months?" she questioned, her eyes full of hope.

"Yes, Christine…even waiting up to two months," here he gave her a reluctant smile, knowing it would be hell on him to do so, but he would wait as long as it took. "Now, as you said, we had a wonderful evening and there is no sense in seeing it end on a sour note. So tell me, Christine, what might I do, right now, to make you smile again? Would you like a dish of ice cream? Or would you wish me to buy you a fur coat? Maybe fly you to China for some eggrolls and noodles?"

The absurdity of his suggestions made Christine laugh, which had been his ultimate goal, but he was still deadly serious about his offer. He would give her the world on a silver platter if she but asked.

"Well, it's a bit late for sweets," she began, tapping her chin as if in deep thought. "And I'm against cruelty to animals, so the coat would have to be fake fur…but with summer coming up, I don't think I would use it much. And after Stacy's little bout of food poisoning from eating sushi…I think I'll pass on the Chinese food for now."

"Then what can I get for my little songbird?" Erik pressed. "You must ask for something, for I will not rest until I have atoned for my thoughtless blunder tonight. Now…please, ask me for anything."

"Tell me what happened to Antoinette's husband," she blurted out, her lips apparently working faster than her brain. When she realized what she had just asked, Christine's hand flew to her lips, clamping over her mouth in shock. Oh, no…what had she just done? "No…I take it back. Please, forget I said anything, Erik. Oh, I'm such a blabbermouth!"

 _"Antoinette's husband?"_ Erik repeated, obviously ignoring her request. He pulled back just a bit with a confused look in his eyes. "How do you know about him?"

"I…that is…well, Meg and I were talking…" she stammered, not wanting to get anyone in trouble, but knowing that Erik would see through a lie in seconds. "And then…well, that night that Antoinette came over to deliver the pictures, she and I kind of…well…"

"She _told_ you about her past?" Erik appeared sincerely surprised by this. "She must feel very comfortable around you indeed, Christine, for Antoinette is not one to share her secrets lightly."

"And in retrospect, she probably shouldn't have either, because here I just blurted out what she had asked me to keep between just the two of us," Christine moaned, wishing she could just crawl in a hole and die. "Please, please, don't tell her I said anything, and I would just hate myself if you got upset with her for doing so. She meant no harm, it was just that she needed to get things off her chest, and we were talking about Amir, and one thing led to another…and well, it all just came out."

"Amir? Why were you two discussing him?" Now Erik _did_ sound upset.

"Well…because…" Christine paused and swallowed hard. In for a penny, in for a pound, or so they say. "Because I believe that Amir fancies Antoinette. And she confided to me that she, well…likes him back."

Erik stared at her in silence for a good thirty seconds before he was able to respond.

"Antoinette _likes_ Amir?" he asked, wishing to clarify her meaning. "As in, she has some sort of emotional attachment to him?"

"As in if he passed her a note in class asking her to check yes or no…she would check yes," Christine stated.

 _"Check yes?_ I don't follow." This was all too confusing for him.

"You know, Amir gives her a note that says, 'Check yes if you want to go out with me, check no if you don't," Christine explained.

"And people actually engage in such foolish ways of expressing their desires to socialize?" This was madness as far as Erik was concerned.

"Yes…some do," she giggled, suddenly enjoying her husband's obvious lack of knowledge on the subject.

"What a completely inefficient way to go about things!" he huffed.

"As opposed to your well-organized and straight forward approach of proposing marriage to me?" Christine asked with a sly little grin.

"Exactly!" Erik nodded, looking rather smug. "And I believe my results speak for themselves. For here you are… _my wife_. While if what you say is actually true, Amir has spent the past ten years pining away for my legal counsel...and her for him."

"Looks to be the case," she shrugged.

"Extraordinary," Erik mused, mulling over this new piece of information. And here he thought it was Amir and Mrs. Murphy he had to worry about. "It could explain the long line of women he's dated over the years, without a decent one in the bunch. And all this time…I never even suspected."

"Well, that was the general idea," she stated. "I think they both felt that you might disapprove."

"Of course I would disapprove!" Erik said sternly. "Antoinette could do so much better than that pesky Persian!"

"Oh, you stop," Christine scolded, giving his knee a playful slap. "Amir is a fine man and you know it. And we should be happy for them…if they ever get the nerve to speak their minds to each other, that is."

"I wonder what has been holding them back…besides me, as you say," he wondered.

"Well, Antoinette fears that since Amir knows all about her embarrassing failed marriage and how badly it ended, that he might think less of her," she revealed. "But I have no idea what's holding Amir back."

"Oh…I could guess," he said with a bit of a sigh. "Let's just say no one has a clean slate in this house." He then looked down at her. "Except for you, of course."

"Hey, even I have things in my past that I'm ashamed of, Erik," she argued. "Or don't you remember me telling you that my prom date cheated on me, forcing me to call my father for a ride home from the dance?"

"Which was hardly _your_ fault," he told her emphatically. "That boy was an utter idiot. And still is, as far as I'm concerned."

"The point is, no one can boast that they have nothing to be ashamed of, Erik. And if they tell you they don't, well they must be trying to sell you something," she finished firmly. "So…that leads me back to my original question. What happened to Roger Giry?"

"I honestly have no idea," Erik admitted, with a shrug of his shoulders.

"What? How's that possible?" she questioned, unwilling to accept that answer. "Antoinette said she contacted _you_ for help, and that he disappeared soon after."

"That is true," Erik nodded, apparently willing to confide in her about this at least. "I received her letter, begging for help, and as I stated earlier, there was a time in my life when I was not exactly a model citizen, and engaged in some questionable activities that would have been of use to her. Back then Amir was my front man, you might say, it being easier for him to be out and about in public. I sent him to meet with Antoinette and look into her situation, whereupon he uncovered the bargain her worthless husband had made with a certain man in order to spare him a much deserved beating. Yet, it was not _I_ who ultimately dealt with the problem…but Amir."

"He…he's the one who got rid of her husband?" Christine was both shocked, and somewhat relieved. She lowered her voice and leaned in a bit closer as if afraid to say the words out loud. "Do you think he… _killed him_?"

"That _is_ a possibility," Erik said rather nonchalantly. "Yet, I highly doubt it came to that. Roger Giry was so far in debt that a few well-placed phone calls was all that would have been required to see that he vanished into thin air. My guess is that Mr. Giry is still working off his debts in some marijuana field in a third-world country, and hardly worth our further concern." He then got a devilish look in his eye. "Yet, now knowing of Amir's feelings for Antoinette, I am willing to bet the scoundrel made the trip into oblivion with a few broken ribs and two black eyes." When Christine gave Erik a questioning look, he added, "Let's just say that Amir is no slouch when it comes to hand to hand combat."

"I see," Christine said in astonishment. "Well, now…that's very interesting."

"It is indeed," Erik agreed, still mulling over this new piece of information. "That does answer a few questions I long had surrounding her case. Like why Amir insisted on handling the entire thing on his own, as well as his encouragement that I hire her once I formed Phantom Industries. Granted, Antoinette has been invaluable to my company over the past ten years, yet had it not been for Amir recommending her, I would have never thought of offering her the position."

"So…her working for you was not her payment of the favor you requested?" she pressed.

"Favor? What favor?" was Erik's next question.

"Antoinette said that Amir told her that instead of money, you had only requested she do you some favor in the future," Christine explained. "When she realized who was offering her the job, she figured you had come to collect."

"A favor?" Erik now burst out laughing. "Oh, Amir and his bleeding heart! Trust me, I would not have requested a simple favor for my services. Cold hard cash was the only thing I took as payment back then. Yet, apparently our sappy Persian was not about to take a dime from Antoinette. And all this time I just assumed she had paid as usual. I might have to require that Amir compensate me for my share of that deal. For even if he handled it himself, it was _my_ reputation he was working off of."

"Well, I think it's very sweet what Amir did," Christine told him. "I mean, the part about not charging her…not the part where he kind of made a person disappear. Still, I think Roger Giry got what he deserved!"

"So, by answering your question, have I now been forgiven for my inappropriate behavior earlier?" Erik asked. "Or would you still prefer a bowl of ice cream?"

"No, you've more than fulfilled my request," she grinned. "And maybe someday you'll feel confident enough to tell me how you got that scar on your chest as well. But not tonight," she quickly added, as Erik's eyes took on a worried look. "For I think we've talked enough for now, and I do wish to be up in time to go see my father at Leathwood. Do you think Dr. Mills will be there on a Sunday?"

"I can almost guarantee that he will," Erik assured her, knowing that he would call first thing in the morning and make a special request that he come in just for them. "Now, I would say it's time to get some sleep."

.

.

The two of them made quick work of getting ready for bed, slipping under the blankets as Erik shut off the light, plunging the room into darkness. Once more it took Christine a few minutes to get settled, at last finding her comfortable spot with a happy sigh.

 _"Good night, Christine,"_ Erik said, throwing his voice into her right ear.

This caused her to jump, sitting up in bed as she turned and stared at him in the moonlight.

"And how on earth did you do _that_ tonight while I was on stage, Erik?" she demanded, her tone one of sheer disbelief. "I could have sworn you were standing right beside me!"

"I will tell you in the morning, my inquisitive little wife," Erik laughed, enjoying how impressed she appeared to be with his skills. "Now, go to sleep, Christine." And with that, he rolled over, putting his back to her so that she couldn't see his wicked grin.

" _Now_ who's the stubborn one?" she huffed, flopping back down with a not so quiet grumble. "Men!"

* * *

 **Well...now we know the full story behind Antoinette's x-husband...and who it was who actually took care of him. Amir is such a softie.**

 **Soooo, how did you like the flowers, the kiss, their talk? Did Erik and Christine do good?**

 **And wasn't Erik such a sweetie to stop when she asked him to? Even if he REALLY wanted to continue on.**

 **And he will have to tell her all about how he throws his voice tomorrow. What a little tease he is.**

 **Thanks again for all your comments and reviews. You make my day!**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Kristin:** Oh yes, Amir likes her a lot...but he is kind of shy...or afraid...or both. She show went fine, as you already know, and Charles was probably just bursting with pride for his little girl. Glad that Charles met with your expectations, Christine is over the moon happy about it too. Raoul really does need to mind his own business...but as an FBI agent (desk jockey) he kind of thinks it IS his business. ha ha. Erik's does a LOT of things at Phantom Industries...but lately I think he mostly just sits at his desk and stares at Christine's photo. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Guest:** No sweetie...unfortunately there was a glitch with the FF site, and now all have been posted in order...go back and check them out. 32, 33, and now 34. Cheers.

 **Guest:** I liked your little warning to Raoul...I can just see you pointing your two fingers at your eyes and then pointing them at him..."I'm watching you...always watching." ha ha. Glad you enjoyed it. Charles is making progress! Next he will be walking, talking and kicking Erik's butt. ha ha. Which 'ship' is that? Thanks.

 **Cayla:** Yes, Raoul is very concerned for his friend, since he thinks she married into the mob. ha ha. And for all we know, she did. He has matured...some. But he still has not learned not to try and take Erik's toys! Oh yes, we have NOT seen the last of Phil and Raoul. Nope. Christine really did good getting to sing more of the song, but I do feel bad for Stacy. Erik was sure smart to make her learn that whole song, right? Thanks.

 **Guest:** I'm so happy you adored it, and that it made your day. Getting wonderful reviews like this makes MY day! I really hope you figured out the mistake and went back to read chapter 32. I bet things made a lot more sense then. ha ha. Yep, Charles is getting better! Thanks.

 **Guest:** I'm not a tease...I'm just drawn that way. ha ha. (Rodger Rabbit reference) What will Raoul being there mean? That he has good taste and will get to see a fine show? Or maybe something more. ha ha. Thanks

 **Gummy:** Ok, maybe I was talking more about MY older and sophisticated husband...not Erik. ha ha Erik does still have some childish tendencies...but at least he looks awesome in an Armani suit! And please don't make me picture Erik dressed as a school girl...please...no...*covers eyes* ha ha. You go girl, write that story! Thanks.


	35. Chapter 35

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.

 **Sadly, another weekend is gone...and Monday has arrived. *sigh***

 **But here is a chapter to brighten your day.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 35**

 **~X~**

* * *

The following morning, after a leisurely breakfast, the two headed for Leathwood. Erik had made sure to call while his wife was in the shower and personally request that Dr. Mills come in to meet with them. He found it a bit humorous when the receptionist told him that the doctor had anticipated this and had just arrived. Erik assured the woman that they would be there shortly.

He had asked Gerald to bring the limousine around, preferring to spend his time talking to Christine and not concentrating on driving. As they made their way down the busy streets, stopping now and then for backed-up traffic, Christine questioned him again about his ability to throw his voice.

"How did you do that last night, it sounded like you were right there beside me!" she told him. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"I picked up that little trick in the Middle East," he explained. "It came in very handy in my line of work."

"And what line of work was that, pray tell?" she pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"One I do not wish to discuss right now," he stated, putting an end to that line of conversation.

"Then shall we discuss _how_ you did it…can you teach me?" she begged, eager to master this rather odd ability.

"That depends…how serious are you about learning?" Erik asked. "It is not something one studies on a whim. It takes time, concentration, and often years of practice to master it fully."

"Oh," Christine said in a rather disappointed tone. "I'm not sure I want to put _that_ much effort into it. How about _you_ just show me again how you did it. Say something?"

 _"Very well, Christine, what would you like me to say?"_ a tiny voice asked from inside her purse. Christine was so shocked she nearly let the bag slip off her lap, her eyes wide with surprise.

"That was amazing!" She was now grinning from ear to ear. "Do it again!"

Erik had to laugh at her childlike wonder, more than happy to entertain her all day if the reward was her radiant smile. He spent the next ten minutes making everything in the limo speak, even causing poor Gerald to bat at his ear several times as an imaginary fly buzzed around his head, irritating him to no end. Yet when Christine rolled down her window at a stoplight and looked out at a group of people standing at a crosswalk, Erik knew the bar was about to be raised.

"Make one of them hear you say something," she begged, a devious little grin on her face.

"All right," Erik nodded, scanning the crowd until he saw a man and a woman standing very close together. It was rather easy to tell that they were husband and wife, their matching rings catching his eye. However, the woman looked rather tired, perhaps having been up all night with the children, or working at some evening job. Unfortunately, her husband, though appearing just as tired, was oblivious to this, looking at the signal light, waiting for it to change. So, thinking quickly, Erik sent his voice out, landing in the ear of the poor woman.

The moment he was finished speaking, the woman's eyes grew wide and she turned to look up at her husband, who stared back at her curiously. Suddenly the woman threw her arms around the man and kissed him right on the lips, shocking him, as well as one or two of the other pedestrians around them.

"What did you say?" Christine gasped. The light turned green, causing them to leave the still kissing couple behind.

"I noticed that the woman looked exhausted, and so I made her think that her husband had whispered something sweet in her ear," he explained, rather pleased with his work. "I had him tell her how beautiful she looked, and that each day she became more and more desirable to him."

"You did?" she asked, placing her hand over her heart. "That's so sweet! And it looked like that was exactly what she needed to hear too."

"So it would seem," Erik nodded, rather satisfied by his efforts. He not only made that woman's day that much better…he had impressed Christine as well.

.

.

They continued on in companionable silence until they reached Leathwood, heading inside as Gerald parked the limo. They found Dr. Mills in her father's room, hooking the man up to some strange wires attached to a machine. Two other technicians were working with him, while Susan was standing off to the side, though she waved at them enthusiastically.

"Good morning, you are just in time," Mills smiled, seeing the couple enter.

"In time for what?" Christine asked, instantly concerned by the strange looking apparatus.

"To see how well your father's nerves have healed thus far," the doctor explained. "Susan told me of his rather miraculous feat last night, and while I'm shocked that he was able to respond so quickly, I won't deny that I've seen this happen in a few cases before. It just proves that your father's a fighter, Christine."

"He always has been," she beamed with pride, kneeling down beside her father's chair and taking hold of his hand. "Did you hear that…you impressed even the doctor? You always were an over achiever." She gave him a wink, hoping that he could hear her love for him in her voice. Christine then turned to Dr. Mills. "So…how does this thing work?"

"It measures the amount of stimulation in the nerves, giving us a percentage of how far along he is," Mills told them, finishing up attaching the electrodes to his temples, chest, and arms. "Now, please stand back, we can't have any outside stimuli during the reading."

Erik helped Christine to her feet, and the two of them stepped back, watching as Dr. Mills and his assistants readied the machine.

"Will it hurt him?" Christine questioned, worry in her tone.

"Not a bit," one of the other men said with a comforting smile. "It is much like a lie detector test, reading slight elevations in blood pressure, synapse function, and a few other things. He won't feel even a tickle."

"Now, here we go," Dr. Mills said, flipping the switch as the machine began to hum. He next turned to Charles, leaning down so that the two men were face to face. "All right, Charles…here's your big chance to impress your daughter. Can you try and move your fingers for us again. I know it's difficult and might wear you out, but it would be a big help if you could."

Everyone in the room held their breath, once again waiting to see if he could do it. Time passed…and then, there is was. _Movement!_

"Excellent Charles!" the doctor told him, reaching over and turning off the machine. "Now, let's see what the results say."

While Mills studied the long paper that began to feed out the side, Christine helped Susan remove the electrodes, peeling them off gently and laying them on the silver tray beside the machine. They had just finished buttoning up his shirt when the doctor turned around with an impressed look on his face.

"Well, Doctor?" Erik asked, encouraging him to speak.

"It would appear that the serum has indeed halted the attack on his nerves and their protective coating," he told them, a smile spreading across his face. "And while it took a great deal of strength and energy for your father to move even that fraction of an inch…he was able to do it. These numbers tell me that he expended eighty-three percent of his strength, with seven percent results."

"Is…is that bad?" The figures did not sound encouraging to Christine.

"Not at all. It's very good in fact, and I predict they will only get better," he assured her. "Since your father came to us unable to move at all, having lost a great many of his automatic functions already, I was afraid that more would disappear before we turned this all around." He gave Christine a sympathetic look. "I didn't wish to alarm you with this information until it became necessary, but your father stood a good chance of losing his ability to swallow next, as well as blink instinctually, leaving us with no other choice than to hook him up to a feeding tube and possibly tape his eyes shut to avoid infection due to them drying out." When Christine's eyes grew wide with fear, he reached out and placed a hand on her arm in a reassuring manner. "But that is not going to happen now, for your father is improving, not getting worse. This is a very good sign, one that you should celebrate."

"Thank you, Doctor," she said with a heavy sigh of relief. "I can't tell you how wonderful that is to hear." She then looked down at her father. "So what comes next? What can I do to help?"

"Just keep doing what you have been, for I think he is working all the more to get well because he loves you so much," Mills told her, signaling for the other two men to take the machine out of the room. "A lot of the healing will have to be done from the inside, with his body working on repairing itself, but we will aid him all we can. I will continue to check his results, and as soon as he's able, we can try setting up some form of buzzer or light system where he can respond to questions you pose with yes or no answers."

"You mean we can talk to him…and he can answer?" This was almost too wonderful to believe, and Christine reached out and took hold of Erik's hand, clinging to him in her moment of joy.

"That's the hope, yes," he nodded. "Now, why don't we give you three some time to visit and I'll head home to my own family." Here Mills gave Erik a knowing wink. "It is, after all, the weekend."

"And we appreciate you coming in on your day off, Doctor," Erik told him, not looking at all guilty over having called him in. The fact that Christine was currently holding his hand, and had the most lovely smile on her face, had made it all worthwhile in his opinion.

"I would say, anytime…but I fear you might take me up on that," Mills laughed, as he followed the other doctors out the door.

"I'm so happy for you and Charles, Christine," Susan told her, as she passed, reaching out to give the grinning girl a warm hug. "I'll be back in soon to check on him. You just call if you need anything."

"Thank you, Susan," Christine said, watching the kind woman leave.

Once they were alone, Christine pulled up a chair in front of him, while Erik remained standing, not quite sure he wished to intrude on this father/daughter moment.

"Did you hear that, Papa?" she asked excitedly. "Before long we can talk again! Have an actual two way conversation! I have so many things to ask you, Papa, so many things I want to know. And this means you're getting better, that one day you'll be back to normal…back with me!"

Christine continued chattering away, the joy in her voice evident to all. Yet Erik couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy over her last statement. _Back with her._ Erik was not sure he wanted to share his new wife with anyone…not even her father. He had been enjoying being the man in her life, the one she would turn to for help and comfort, but should her father recover, that might all go away. It saddened him more than he cared to admit…and yet, he wouldn't have it any other way. Christine needed her father, and Charles needed her. Erik would never take that away from either of them, and even if it hurt to imagine that day arriving, he would face it with a smile – because he knew it would bring joy to his wife.

And _she_ was all that mattered.

.

.

After a nice long visit, the two departed, heading back into the city. Christine was still talking a mile a minute, and Erik sat there listening with a smile on his face. He loved having a chatty wife.

"Can we please find a flower shop and take a bouquet by to Stacy Martinez?" she asked all of a sudden. "I wish I had thought to bring one of the bouquets from our bedroom, and then we wouldn't have to stop anywhere."

"No, Christine, those flowers are for you alone," Erik insisted. "You earned them…each and every one."

"Well…I still say you're spoiling me," Christine grinned.

"As is my right," he replied with a nod of finality. "And certainly we can stop and get flowers for Miss Martinez. Do you know where she lives?"

"Yes, I asked the school nurse for her address last night before the program," she said with a look of excitement. "And I really want to stop in and see how she's feeling. I know she was terribly disappointed."

"I can imagine," Erik nodded, no stranger to regret himself. "And of course we can, that is very kind of you to think of her. The gesture will be appreciated, I have no doubt."

.

.

So after a quick stop at a flower shop, they headed to Stacy's apartment. The girl lived with her two sisters, all three of them pursuing the arts in one fashion or another. After knocking, they were given admittance, the two other girls a bit in awe over having the famous Erik Thorn in their living room, not even giving his mask a second look. Stacy was feeling well enough to be out on the couch, watching television, and was excited to have visitors. The flowers were a hit, and helped a little to ease her regrets about not going on.

"I was so sick last night, there was no way I could have sung a note, Christine," Stacy told her. "I heard that you took on my part as well as yours. I don't know if I could have done that if I were in your place. And from what I'm told…you brought the house down!"

"Well…you know what they say, the show must go on," Christine laughed, blushing at the compliment. "Edward did marvelous too. You should have seen all the girls in the audience swooning when he sang."

"Oh, I bet," Stacy chuckled. "Men have no idea what they do to us when they sing…am I right?"

"Ummm, yah… _no idea_ ," Christine agreed, daring to give Erik a side-glance as she said this.

.

.

Soon it appeared that Stacy was growing tired, so they said their goodbyes, telling her to get better soon. Out in the car, Christine started to giggle, causing Erik to look at her in confusion.

"Are you unwell, Christine?" he asked, finding nothing humorous enough to evoke such a reaction in his wife.

"No…it's just that…well, didn't _you_ notice?" she asked, trying to stifle her laughter. "The way Stacy's sisters were nearly drooling over you the whole time?"

"They what?" Erik looked shocked. "You must have been seeing things."

"Oh, I was seeing things all right…things like them undressing you with their eyes!" she informed him. "And right in front of me too! Looking back, I probably should have scratched their eyes out or something!"

Now Erik was truly speechless. Was Christine… _jealous_?

"I mean, I wouldn't have, of course," she continued, unaware of her husband's reaction to her words. "I'm not the violent type by nature. But come on, they were ogling you like you were a piece of prime grade A meat in a store window. And while _you're_ probably used to such things…I am not!"

Erik had indeed been on the receiving end of many women's attentions, but he had always believed it was due to his wealth and power. Could he have been mistaken?

"You do know that you have nothing to worry about, correct?" Erik was quick to assure her. "I promised you complete fidelity in this marriage. I will not break that promise Christine…or your trust. Do you believe me?"

She turned to stare up into his eyes, seeing that he was indeed deadly serious.

"I do believe you, Erik," she nodded at last. "Just as I hope you know I'll never be unfaithful either."

"I do," he assured her.

"Then…I guess we both have nothing to worry about, do we?" she stated matter of factly.

Oh, but Erik did have plenty to worry about…so many things that were out of his control. So much that could potentially go wrong, things that could take Christine away from him. And he dearly hated that feeling of helplessness.

.

.

Since it was Mrs. Murphy's day off, Erik had suggested they remain in the city and go to dinner at a nice restaurant, but Christine said she was not up to eating out. Claiming that after working in food service herself, the idea of dining out lost a bit of the appeal. So, placing an order for take out, they picked up something and took it home, arriving back at the mansion just as it got dark.

"Would you like to eat in the dining room, or the entertainment room?" Erik asked, setting the food containers on the counter and getting out a couple of plates.

"The entertainment room is fine," she assured him, grabbing a few sodas from the fridge.

"As you wish," he nodded, carrying their meals into the comfortable room, with Christine right behind him.

They talked while they ate, with Christine sneaking glances at Erik when he was not looking. She found it interesting that he could manage to eat while wearing a mask. Granted, it didn't go so far down as to impede his lips, but doing anything with half of your face covered couldn't be easy. If she wasn't here…would Erik normally take it off when dining? How about sleeping? Did he _ever_ take it off?

"What is it you are thinking about, Christine?" Erik asked, taking note of her quizzical look.

"Oh, nothing…I was just…never mind," she stammered, quickly going back to her own meal.

Erik's mind was spinning with possibilities, and most of them revolved around his face…yet that was never a subject he wished to discuss, especially when he and Christine were having such a pleasant evening. He could only hope it never came up… _ever!_

 _._

 _._

"I have a gift for you, Christine," Erik announced, once they were finished eating.

"A gift?" she asked, instantly curious. The two of them hadn't been out of each other's company all day, when did he have time to get her anything?

"It is a small present, but something I think you will enjoy," he told her with a smile. He stood up and walked to his desk, returning with a thin, square object, wrapped in pretty paper and tied with a bow. "For you."

Christine, never one to care about saving paper or anything, ripped into it with abandon. Yet when she saw the contents, she looked up at Erik in confusion.

"A book?" she asked.

"Not just any book…read the title," he prompted.

"The New York Department of Motor Vehicles…driver's manual," Christine read out loud, full understanding finally hitting her. "You're going to teach me to drive?"

"I said I would," he reminded her. "And I think if you study hard, you could easily try for your permit next week. How does that sound?"

"Uhh, how about I study hard and let you know when _I'm_ ready?" she suggested, flipping through the pages a bit nervously.

"That sounds fair," Erik nodded, sensing her trepidation. "And we can begin your training by driving on our private property…that way you can get some time in behind the wheel and not be at risk of getting a ticket."

"Or killing anyone," she stated with a nervous laugh.

"I highly doubt you would do any such thing, Christine," Erik said, shaking his head. "For I will see that you are properly schooled in every safe driving technique."

"And will I get to drive your Ferrari?" Christine asked, excitement showing in her eyes.

"Of course…but not until you pass all your tests," he informed her, holding up his finger as a warning.

"Then what car will I practice in? I can't just take the driving test without first being behind the wheel of a car."

"No, you cannot," Erik agreed. "Thus…we will use Amir's car."

"Oh, we will, will we?" Christine giggled, wondering what the Persian would think about that. "And why is that?"

"His BMW is much more suited for learning to drive than any of mine," he reasoned. "Amir's car is also an automatic, where mine are all stick-shift. I think it would be much safer for you this way."

"And will Amir agree to this?" she asked.

"More than likely…and if he does not, we will just not tell him." Erik's evil grin told Christine that he almost hoped his friend would say no, just so he could pull one over on him.

"Well, I promise to study hard and learn everything I can to make sure I don't wreck anything," Christine promised.

"I am certain you will do just fine," Erik assured her, having long ago come to the conclusion that there was nothing Christine couldn't do once she set her mind to it. He only hoped she had the same determination about making this marriage a success.

.

.

Monday arrived, and with it a great deal of adulation from her professors and peers at Juilliard, making Christine's face hurt from all the smiling she had done throughout the day. Yet that smile faded quickly when she headed out to meet Gerald in front of the school like always.

"No, babe, I'm sorry…I can't come right now," she heard her driver say into his phone as she approached the car. The large bald man was leaning against the limo with a despondent look on his face. "Can you hold on for a bit longer…maybe an hour and then I might be able to come?"

"What's going on?" Christine asked, not liking what she was hearing. "Who are you talking to?"

Gerald asked the person on the phone to hold on, covering the mouthpiece with his hand before answering her.

"It's Charlotte," he explained. "Her car broke down and she can't get it started."

"And why can't you go help your girlfriend out?" she questioned, not sure what was holding him back.

"I'm still on duty. I have to take you to Leathwood…and then home," he told her, sounding as if his reasoning should be obvious.

"Oh, pish!" Christine said with a wave of her hand. "Where's she at?"

"Downtown, on west thirty-fourth street," he answered. "But Mr. Thorn wouldn't be happy if I…" But here Christine cut him off.

"You let me worry about Mr. Thorn," she instructed. "That isn't far from Phantom Industries, so why don't you drop me off there and then go rescue Charlotte. I'll tell Erik that I just wanted to pop in and say hello, and have him drive me home. I don't think he'll mind."

Gerald was torn…on one hand he truly did want to help his girlfriend. Yet, one never knew what Erik Thorn would say or do when plans got changed at such short notice. But still…wouldn't his own wife know best?

"All right, if you think it'll be all right?" he agreed.

"I know it will," she grinned. "Now tell Charlotte you're on the way."

.

.

Ten minutes later, Gerald pulled up in front of the fourteen story building, thanking Christine once again for allowing herself to be inconvenienced for his sake.

"Just tell Charlotte I said hi," she grinned, hopping out of the limo and waving to him as she sprinted up the steps and through the glass doors.

Once inside, Christine took a moment to enjoy the view. Granted she had walked through this lobby twice before, but both times she was in a bit of a state, and had not taken time to look around. The third time she had come to Erik's office had been for the interview, and they had bypassed the lobby altogether, coming directly from the parking garage. Now, with time to spare, Christine did take a moment to gaze at the magnificent things around her.

There was a large circular desk in the middle of the room, with two men and one woman apparently there to direct visitors to where they needed to go. She counted two other men, dressed in security uniforms, standing next to large pillars, alert and ready for any danger. There were also copious amounts of plants, artwork and even a pretty little fountain with a statue of a woman holding a water jar on her shoulder in the center. The sound of the liquid pouring out of the jar was very soothing, making the whole place feel warm and inviting. Christine could only imagine that those that worked here enjoyed the ambiance as they arrived each morning.

Once her visual tour was over, she headed for the elevators. There were three of them, all in a row, but she knew that the one she needed was the one in the middle. For while all three would take you to the first twelve floors, only the center one would go to the top…and that was where she would find Erik.

When the doors opened, and she stepped inside, Christine looked at the panel…and unable to help herself, she pushed the button for the thirteenth floor. Erik had said that was where he had created his private apartment, and she found that she would very much like to see it. Yet, instead of the elevator starting to lift off, taking her to the floor of her choice, a red light began to blink, followed by a little display screen telling her to enter a code.

"Well, I don't _know_ the code," she huffed, realizing that Erik wouldn't allow just _anyone_ to visit his personal space. "So I guess I'll just have to go straight to the top." And pushing the button for the fourteenth floor, up she went.

However, since she also didn't have the code to make the elevator bypass all the other floors, like Erik had done, she found it stopping periodically to pick up a passenger. Soon she was crammed in with two other women, and three men…one pushing a mail cart. As they shuffled around, letting some off and others on, Christine ended up blocking the mail cart, forcing her to exit the elevator on the ninth floor, in order to let the man get off at his destination. Unfortunately, the mail person took so long doing so, that the doors began to shut before she could make it back on. Christine thought about sticking her hand in between to stop it, but really never felt comfortable doing that…worried it would continue to shut and cut her arm off.

So, with a sigh, she pushed the button, requesting that it stop again on its next trip past. While she waited, Christine looked around, wondering what kind of work took place on the ninth floor. It appeared very busy, with everyone heading this way and that, phones ringing, and dozens of people sitting in their cubicles, typing away at computers. There were sounds of laughter, talking, and the beeps and clicks of machines whirling away, leaving Christine to guess that everyone was working hard. It made her happy to know that her husband supplied all these people with employment…that because of Erik, everyone here had a paycheck at the end of the week.

"Well, hello there," came a voice to her left, causing her to turn. There stood a very handsome African-American man, a few years older than her, she guessed, dressed in a fine suit. "You appear to be lost. Might I assist you in some way?"

And while his offer was kind, Christine couldn't help but notice that his body language gave her the impression that he had more on his mind than simply offering directions.

"No, I'm fine," she told him, giving him a friendly smile. "I just got off at the wrong floor, and I'm waiting for the elevator to return."

"If you're not in a hurry, I was about to get myself a cup of coffee…might I interest you in one as well?" he offered, gesturing to the small room nearby that looked to be their little kitchen area. "We serve only the best here at Phantom Industries."

"Oh, I'm sure that's true," she giggled to herself, knowing that Erik was a stickler for details. And while Christine found his interest in her a bit inappropriate, seeing as how she was obviously wearing a wedding ring, she couldn't help but also be flattered that such a handsome man would be coming on to her. Still, flattered or not, Christine knew she needed to put an end to this. "Thank you for the offer, but I fear I must decline."

"That's too bad," he said with a disappointed smile. Yet before he could say any more, assuming of course that he meant to, they were interrupted by a rather threatening voice behind her.

"Is everything all right here, Mrs. Thorn?" Amir asked, approaching them with a stern look on his face.

"Just fine, Mr. Dessan," she assured him, turning around and giving him her sweetest smile. "And I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at all to find you lurking nearby."

 _"Mrs. Thorn?"_ the man to her left all but squeaked, taking a step back as his eyes grew wide with fear. "You're…you're the boss' wife?"

"Yes, Christine Thorn," she introduced herself, extending her hand in a friendly gesture. "And you are?"

"Dead meat if the boss hears about this!" he gasped, holding up his hands as he began to back further away. "I'm nobody…less than nobody…in fact I was never, and you never saw me!" And with that, he turned and disappeared, not even saying goodbye.

"Well, that was rather odd behavior," she chuckled. "Are all the employees this afraid of Erik?"

"Pretty much," Amir shrugged. "And they have good cause to be, especially if they dare to hit on his wife."

"He had no idea who I was," she assured him, waving off any concern he might have on the subject. "The man was harmless, and I could have handled it all on my own."

"I'm sure you could, but if I'd have let you, then I wouldn't be doing my job, now would I?" he pointed out.

"And we couldn't have that, now could we?" Christine laughed.

"I do have to earn my salary, you know," Amir agreed. "If not, how will I be able to afford TV dinners and Starbucks coffee? A man's gotta live…right?"

"And I do feel so terribly sorry for the deplorable conditions you are forced to endure," she told him, sticking out her lip and giving him a sympathetic pout.

"Dang girl…do you use that look on Erik?" the Persian asked, a wide smile gracing his lips. "If so, no wonder he can't say no to you."

"Oh? So, you think this pouty face can work wonders on my husband?" she asked, feeling as if she had just been handed a secret weapon.

"If I know Erik, and I think I do, I can say without a doubt, that you have no idea the kind of power you hold over that man," Amir said with an amused shake of his head. Just then the elevator bell rang and the doors opened. "Now, if you're quite finished frightening poor men out of their wits, what say we head up and put a smile on Erik's face? He's not expecting you, I take it?"

"Nope, not at all," Christine confirmed, stepping inside the now empty lift. "Do you think he'll be pleased that I came?"

"Christine, I can guarantee that he'll be tickled right down to his socks," Amir laughed, hitting the button for the fourteenth floor…along with the code for a direct and fast ascent. Amir wasn't taking any more chances with Christine running into other employees set on asking her out. He had to snicker to himself, imagining that poor man scurrying to the restroom to change his pants. However, this was probably not something _Erik_ would find amusing, so he decided it was best not to even mention it. Amir would let the man live… _this time._

* * *

 **That was very generous of Amir to let that poor man live. ha ha. _  
_**

 **So, her Papa IS getting better, and soon will be able to answer yes and no questions. Hope Erik is ready for that.**

 **Erik got hit on! And look so did Christine!**

 **Wonder what Erik will say to her visit this time?**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest:** Yep, three in a row...all for YOU! They are working on the openness...it is better that way I think. Thanks.

 **Kristin:** Yes, the man CAN be taught, it would seem. ha ha. After ten years with the two of them dancing around each other but never making a move...I think they WILL need a little push. ha ha. Oh, Christine...can you help with that? Thanks.

 **Gummy:** YOU are the one who brought it up...so you have to deal with the haunting visual. ha ha. Oh yes, I'm sure Christine DID think she was going bonkers. But she quickly got over it and is rather intrigued by Erik's ability. Thanks

 **Cayla:** (chapter 33) I think Christine was on cloud nine after all that happened. Her dad moving was the highlight of the evening too. Erik is a pretty good smooth talker too, isn't he. He's getting much better as well...a lot better in fact after that whole "you are the least objectionable woman I know" thing. Amir is never safe from Erik's quips. ha ha. Phil knows something, doesn't he...but what, and will it mean trouble for Erik? Raoul is like a dog with a bone...not going to let it go easily. I too like Meg and Raoul as a couple, but I've put her with others in the past as well. But no, she does NOT deserve to be played. Thanks.

 **Cayla:** (chapter 34) Yah! when a man gets rid of your horrible X for you, it means love. ha ha. BUT...I think next time he should just send flowers. Antoinette is usually a woman of action...but she's been burned before, so this is scary! Erik is just the type to fill a room with flowers...he knows the way to a woman's heart. And the fact he is willing to give her time and space to discover her feelings, is a BIG BONUS. I am so happy that you find my story entertaining enough to hold your attention even when it looks to be a long one. I TRY hard not to put in 'filler chapters' but from time to time, I have no choice. But I always want something exciting happening to hold your interest. Thanks for your super kind words, they really keep me motivated to keep writing. I love doing it, and am tickled that others enjoy what I do. You are awesome.


	36. Chapter 36

.

 **It's Wednesday!**

 **And if you read the A/N at the end, you will see there is another contest!**

 **Now, let's find out what Erik has to say about Christine just dropping in.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 36**

 **~X~**

* * *

When Christine and Amir stepped off the elevator and through the glass doors, they were greeted by a smiling Elizabeth.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Thorn…Mr. Dessan," she said, reaching for the phone. "Shall I tell Mr. Thorn you're here to see him?"

"No…don't ring him," Amir was quick to stop the secretary. "Mrs. Thorn will announce herself."

"I will?" she asked, looking up at him suspiciously.

"Just go over and knock on his door…trust me, he'll be happy to see you," Amir assured her, giving her a gentle push forward. "And since I'm leaving you in his capable hands, I now have the rest of the day off. So get going, girl." He gave her a wave and a smile, heading back towards the elevator.

"All right, but if he bites my head off, you're the one who has to glue it back on!" she called after him, watching as his grinning face disappeared behind the metal doors as they closed. So, after taking a deep breath for courage, Christine walked over to Erik's office door, and gave it a few firm raps.

.

.

Erik was on an overseas call that was of vital importance to the subsequent takeover of a failing company, and any interruption was definitely not welcome at the moment. So, when he heard the knock at the door, he gave a low growl of frustration, before barking out a reply.

"Come!" he yelled, figuring it was Antoinette with some insignificant thing meant to irritate him to no end, for she was the only one brave enough to seek entry uninvited. Yet when the door slowly opened, and Christine's somewhat hesitant face came into view, Erik's demeanor completely changed.

"Am I disturbing you?" she asked, stepping in but keeping the door open for a quick getaway.

"No! Not at all," he insisted, hanging up the phone without even saying goodbye. "Please, come in, Christine! This is a delightful surprise, I must say. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Oh, I was in the neighborhood and thought I would stop in and say hello," she told him, keeping her answer rather vague. "So…hello!"

"And a fine hello to you as well," Erik said with a smile, stepping around his desk as he pulled out a chair for her. "Please…sit," he offered.

"I was also wondering if I might bum a ride home with you," she continued, sinking down in the comfortable leather seat. "I gave Gerald the rest of the day off after he dropped me here. But if you must stay late, or would rather not, I could always catch a cab home…or call Amir back to take me."

"While I am pleased that he is doing his job and you are aware of his willingness to assist, I assure you that I am more than able to drive you home today," he informed her, retaking his own seat as he stared at her adoringly. "In fact…we could leave now if you would like. There is nothing here more important than you, Christine."

"Are you sure?" she questioned. "That call you were on sounded rather important to me."

"Not at all…and besides, they will call back," he told her, knowing if they wanted his money badly enough, they would.

Just then there came another knock at his office door, prompting him to give an even deeper growl over the interruption.

"What now, Antoinette?" he called, the irritation showing in his voice.

"How did you know it was me?" she questioned, stepping inside.

"Who else would be foolish enough to disturb me while I am in a meeting with my wife?" he challenged. Yet he quickly added. "Other than Amir, I suppose."

"Well, I figured if Christine was here, you would be leaving very soon, and there are a few things you need to deal with before you take off," she told him firmly, coming around to stand beside his desk, placing a few papers down before him. "You've been avoiding making the final decisions for the spring charity ball, and since it is being held in less than two weeks, certain things need to be decided on."

"Must I?" Erik was not in the mood for discussing parties, and especially for an event that each year bored him to tears. "How on earth did I get roped into planning the fiasco this year anyway?"

"You actually attended for once, instead of just buying tickets and sending others in your place," was Antoinette's deadpan reply. "Every big-wig takes their turn, and this year the duty falls on _you_."

"I knew I should have sent you or Amir last year," Erik grumbled. "Can't you just make the arrangements yourself?"

"And run the risk of choosing the wrong color napkins and having to listen to you complain about my horrendous blunder for the next twelve months?" she snorted. "Hardly."

"Then…we will let Christine make the decisions," Erik said, instantly loving his idea.

"Me?" she squeaked. "Make decisions about what? What are you roping me into here?"

"Just say the first thing that comes to your mind, no matter what, and it shall be done," Erik assured her, waving for Antoinette to begin with her questions.

With a sigh of resignation, she did, picking up the papers and looking at Christine sympathetically.

"The date has been set, as well as pre-invitations sent out, and I've already reserved the Empire Room at the Mason Hotel for the event. Those at least I figured I could arrange without getting my head bit off," she muttered, giving Erik a scathing side-glance. "But we still need to choose a theme. Last year it was wine and roses, the year before that it was a Hawaiian luau. Do you have any ideas for this year?"

Christine was silent for a moment, feeling rather on the spot as they both stared at her hopefully.

"Anything is better than what he's come up with so far," Antoinette said in an encouraging voice jerking her head towards her boss. "So…just spit something out. Even if you think it sounds silly."

"Well…" she began, her mind spinning with a million ideas. "You said it was a charity ball? Will there be dancing?"

"There usually is," Erik nodded, apparently unexcited by the notion.

"How does the charity part come into play?" she pressed, wanting to have all the information before she started giving out ideas.

"You must buy tickets, and it's a thousand dollars a plate," Antoinette supplied the answer. "A charity is chosen from among several put up for consideration, and all proceeds go towards it. The idea is to make the event enticing enough for all the seats to be sold, thus collecting the most amount of money for the charity."

"A thousand dollars for dinner?" Christine was shocked.

"That is very reasonable, really," Erik informed her. "I've been to some that were far more."

"And you need a theme? Something to lure the guests in?" She tapped her chin, thinking of something that might be fun. "How about a costume party?"

"Costumes?" Erik questioned, suddenly interested by the idea.

"Yes, the guests can come dressed as anything, from King Tut to Marilyn Monroe," Christine went on. "Maybe you could even suggest they come as famous couples. That would be fun."

"Yes! A costume party it shall be!" Erik stated.

"That does sound exciting!" Antoinette agreed, all smiles. "Maybe we could even have a costume contest, where some couple wins a prize."

"Oh, yes, and the guests can buy tickets to vote for their favorites!" Christine suggested, trying to figure a way to make it even more profitable. "The more tickets they buy, the more people they can vote for?"

"Sounds perfect!" Erik said, slapping his hand on the desk in a gesture of finality. "See, did I not tell you that Christine could solve all this for us. Now…what else?"

"Food," Antoinette continued, flipping over to the next page. "Who do you want to cater the event? I recall you saying you hated what they served last year."

"Small portions of pretentious food may go over well at some places, but when you pay that much for a meal, you expect something at least tasteful and filling," Erik snorted, recalling the one bite of fish and three twigs of asparagus he had been served the previous year.

"How about Raffie's place?" Christine spoke up, recalling her promise to keep her former employer in mind. "I'm sure he would jump at the chance to cater a big fancy party like this. And you've already tasted his food, Erik…so you know it's good."

"That too is a fine idea," he nodded, recalling that when he did bother to actually eat at the restaurant, he had found it rather pleasing. "Antoinette, call them today and make the arrangements."

"That only leaves the invitations," Mrs. Giry announced. "As I stated, I sent out save the date cards last month, but we need the formal ones in the mail by Wednesday, or they won't arrive on time."

"Why not go with fancy ones designed to look like old time parchment, and seal the envelope with one of those cool wax stamps?" Christine was really getting excited about this now. "Or would that be going a bit too far?"

"Not at all," Erik assured her. "You have some very wonderful ideas, Christine. I think we have more than enough time to see it done, don't you, Antoinette?"

"I'll get on it right now," she nodded, giving Christine a wink as she headed out the door, smiling from ear to ear.

"Perhaps you should stop by more often," he joked. "Not only did you get all my work done…you managed to get Mrs. Giry off my back as well."

"It's what I'm here for," Christine laughed.

"So, shall we go?" Erik asked, rising from his chair and extending his hand to her. "Before someone else wants a piece of my time, that is."

"Of course! And on the way home, maybe we should stop at a costume shop, before word gets out and all the good ones are taken!" she told him, looping her arm within his.

"Hmmmm, and who exactly shall we go as?" he inquired, not quite sure what his choices might be.

"That all depends," Christine stated, halting him at the door and tugging up his pantleg just a bit. "How do you feel about showing a little leg?"

"WHAT?" Erik was instantly horrified. What had he gotten himself into?

.

.

The little bell over the door of the massive costume shop rang merrily as they stepped inside, their eyes instantly assaulted by the racks and racks of brightly colored outfits.

"So…what shall it be?" Christine asked, leafing through the first rack she came to. "A pirate? An English Lord? A knight in shining armor?" She then gave him a discerning look. "Or maybe a knight in _black_ armor?"

"Anything is fine with me…as long as my body is fully covered," Erik insisted firmly.

"Do you have any heroes from the past you would like to be?" she questioned, still unsure what would interest him the most.

"No…none that I can think of," he snorted, as if the idea of him wishing to emulate anyone was ridiculous. However, now that he thought about it, Attila the Hun had always fascinated him.

"May I be of some help?" a kindly looking gentleman asked, coming over to assist. If he found it strange that Erik was already wearing a mask, he never said a word, probably having seen stranger things in his years of working at a shop like this. "Is there anything in particular you are looking for?"

"Yes," Christine replied, before Erik could tell the man to go away. "We are looking for a couple's costume. Do you have a section for that?"

"Of course," he nodded, leading them over to a long rack near the back. "We have many costumes for couples. What tickles your fancy?" He began to pull out different ones, holding them up for inspection. "We have Anthony and Cleopatra?"

"I am not wearing a dress!" Erik said flatly.

"It's a toga, actually," the shop keeper explained, but he quickly put it back when he saw the look in Erik's eyes. "But something else, perhaps. Fred and Wilma Flintstone? Popeye and Olive Oyl? Kermit the Frog and Miss Piggy?"

"Do we look like the kind of people who wish to dress like a pig and a frog?" Erik hissed, once more not liking the idea of his wife being compared to a farm animal.

Christine gave the man a helpless shrug.

"It's not easy being green," she said, doing her best to lighten the mood.

"Well, we have many other things to choose from," he said, continuing on. "King Arthur and Queen Guinevere, Batman and Cat Woman, how about Hue Heffner and a Playboy Bunny?"

When Christine saw Erik's eyes grow wide with excitement she quickly shut him down.

"NO! If you won't show your legs, then I'm not going to show mine either!" she told him firmly. "This is a costume party, not an opportunity for you to live out some silly male fantasy, Mister!"

At this the shop keeper gave a cross between a snort and a laugh, doing his best to cover it up with a fake cough or two…which was fooling no one.

"We'll keep looking then," he said, clearing his throat a few times. "Alice in Wonderland and the Mad Hatter, Dracula and Elvira, Frankenstein and his bride?"

Now the final suggestion made Erik really angry, for the last thing he would ever choose to go as was a monster - having long thought of himself that very thing. No sense in openly acknowledging the idea to the masses, and then forcing Christine to dress as a reanimated corpse herself.

"Absolutely not!" was all he had to say about that.

"We have a Ken and Barbie costume," the man offered with an exasperated sigh.

"NO!" this time it was both Erik and Christine who protested in unison…looking at each other as the argument they had over Raoul's visit quickly sprang to mind.

"Perhaps I should let you two look yourselves," the now frustrated shop keeper suggested, afraid he might get punched over his next offer.

"How about this one?" Christine asked, pulling out a long flashy red dress trimmed in black lace, attached to another package that contained a black outfit and cape. "Zorro and his Spanish Rose." She read, holding it up to Erik for inspection.

"This has possibilities," Erik nodded, not only liking the idea of Christine wearing the sexy flamenco style dress, but also intrigued by the fact that his costume already came with a mask. He was tired of sticking out like a sore thumb…this at least would allow him to fit in with the crowd a bit more. "I like it."

"Excellent!" the man said, visibly relieved that they had chosen something at last. "Now…what size do you need these in?"

.

.

Once they had made their purchase, and left the store, Christine looked up at Erik with a bit of concern.

"Are you sure you're all right with that costume?" she asked, as Erik opened the car door for her.

"Of course, why do you ask?" He quickly got a suspicious look in his eyes, looking at the bag in his hand. "Zorro _does_ wear long pants, correct?"

"Yes, he does," she chuckled. "I was just worried that my suggestion was in poor taste…seeing as how…well…"

"Seeing as it requires me to wear a mask?" Erik finished for her. And while he was more than used to his face and mask entering every aspect of his life, he truly hated for it to be something that troubled Christine. "No…the mask is fine. I was not offended by your suggestion in the least."

"Good…because that was the last thing I wanted," she told him sincerely, slipping into the plush bucket seats of the yellow Jaguar.

"And I thank you for your consideration," he told her, giving a slight bow before shutting her door. Tossing the bag behind the seat, he climbed in and started the car. "And I will undoubtedly thank you as well for wearing that outfit that compliments my character…for it will look quite stunning on you, Christine."

"Well don't get any ideas about seeing too much leg, Mister!" she told him. "For I plan on getting a pair of those black fishnet stockings to wear under it."

"All's the better," Erik stated with a lascivious grin. And as he turned the key, the engine was not the _only_ thing he felt roar to life.

.

.

Once they were home, with Mrs. Murphy hard at work in the kitchen, Erik suggested that he give Christine a small driving lesson, taking her out in front of the house.

"But I haven't had time to study the manual yet," she balked, not looking at all eager to get behind the wheel so soon.

"I will just show you the basics, allowing you to get a feel for the vehicle," he explained, taking out his phone and texting Amir.

"Are you sure he won't mind us using his car?" she asked, wringing her hands together in worry. "What if I scratch it somehow?"

"Then I'll buy him a new one," Erik said with a roll of his eyes. "Now, stop fretting, Christine. You will do fine."

"What'cha need?" Amir asked as he came strolling around the corner of the garage.

"Your car keys," Erik told him, holding out his hand.

"What for?" he questioned suspiciously, stopping a fair distance from the two.

"So I can teach Christine the fundamentals of operating a motor vehicle," he explained, snapping his fingers and holding out his palm once more. "Now hand them over."

"Why can't you show her in one of your cars?" Amir protested.

"Mine are stick-shift…you have an automatic," he insisted.

"I promise not to hurt it, Amir," Christine stated, trying to reassure the man a little.

"Oh, I'm not worried about you," he informed her, eyeing Erik skeptically. "But the last time _he_ borrowed a car from me, I got it back in pieces!"

"There were extenuating circumstances behind that, and you know it," Erik fussed. "I got you a new one, didn't I?"

"Yes, and this one I'm rather fond of…so try and be a bit more careful this time, will ya?" he almost pleaded, reaching into his pocket and tossing him the keys.

"I will endeavor to bring it back intact," he chuckled, taking hold of Christine's hand and leading her over to the silver BMW parked at the far end of the circular driveway. Amir walked over to the front steps and sat down, leaning against a pillar to watch.

"Here," Erik offered, opening the door for her. "Get in and I'll go around to the passenger side."

Doing as directed, she did slip in, enjoying the feel of the leather seats and the steering wheel in her hands. Once Erik was in place he assessed her position.

"It appears you need to move the chair forward and perhaps elevate it just a bit, the controls are here and there," he pointed to a couple of buttons on the side of the seat. Within moments, Christine felt quite a bit more comfortable, able to see clearly out of the windshield. "Now, here is the gearshift, those are the foot pedals, and this is your steering wheel."

"I _have_ been in a car before, Erik," she said with a roll of her eyes. "I'm quite familiar with such things."

"Of course…but I would not wish to skip over something important simply because I _assumed_ you knew it already," he explained. "Here are your keys…would you like to start the engine?"

"All right!" she nodded, taking them from his hand and slipping it into the ignition. With a quick turn, the car hummed to life, bringing a wide grin to Christine's lips. "How was that?"

"You did it perfectly," he assured her. "Now…how would you go about signaling that you wished to pull out into traffic?"

"I would…stick my head out the window and tell everyone to move it or lose it!" she laughed.

"Yes…that is _one_ way to handle the situation, yet not one that will allow you to pass your driving test," Erik reasoned, trying his best to remain serious, yet his wife was just so darn amusing. "Try again…how would you signal that you are going to pull out into traffic?"

"I know this one," she told him proudly, this time turning very serious. "I would put on my blinker…check my blind spots…then slowly merge with traffic when it is safe to do so."

"Very good. Now show me," he instructed.

"What…now?" she demanded, her eyes wide with fear.

"No better way to learn than by doing," he told her, gesturing with his hand towards the gearshift. "It will be perfectly safe, there are no other cars for miles…you will not run into anything."

"What about those trees?" she questioned, pointing at the tall arborvitaes lining the drive. "What if I run into them?"

"You won't. And they will not run into you either, they are quite stationary, I assure you. Trees are nothing like cars, so you don't have to worry about hitting one," he chuckled, reaching out and patting her hand. "Now, place your foot on the brake, ease it into drive, and then slowly apply the gas as you release your foot from the brake."

Christine repeated his words over in her mind, doing her best to follow his directions as she gritted her teeth and went for it.

.

.

"Well…I stand corrected," Erik said a few minutes later as they stood outside the car, staring at the dent in the right front fender. "It would appear that trees _are_ a viable concern."

"I'm so sorry, Amir!" Christine said for the tenth time in the last two minutes. "I'm really, really sorry!"

"I know," the Persian said with a sigh, giving her a halfhearted smile. "And hey…at least it's still in one piece."

"But I dented it! Look…a big, huge dent!" she wailed, pointing at the fender.

"Oh, I _see_ it," he assured her. "But it's only a car, and no one was injured, so that's all that matters."

"Exactly, Christine," Erik nodded, placing his arm around her shoulders comfortingly. "We will send this to the body shop and Amir will get a loaner while it's being repaired. It will be fixed in no time."

"Are you sure?" she asked hopefully, still distressed over her blunder.

"Very," Erik told her. "Now, why don't you go back inside the house and see if dinner is ready, and I will be in soon."

"All right," she said, her tone still one of remorse. "Again, I'm really sorry, Amir."

"I know you are, and don't worry about it…truly," he assured her, giving her a reassuring wink. "It'll be fine."

So with one final look at the big ugly dent, Christine headed for the house, her shoulders slumped and her step missing that little skip. Once they were alone, Amir leaned over the hood and attempted to hug his car.

"I'm sorry, girl," he said, stroking the metal as if it was his lover. "She didn't mean to scratch you like that. Daddy will see that you are all patched up and good as new in no time."

"Oh, for pity sake!" Erik huffed. "Do the two of you wish to be alone?" When Amir glared at him, and then went back to talking to his car, Erik rolled his eyes. "You really need to find yourself a woman."

"And how do you suggest I go about doing that, when I spend my days following _your_ wife around, and my nights monitoring the security system for this place?" he asked, now getting a bit moody himself. "Women don't exactly grow on trees." He then looked down at his car once more, his face growing sad. "Trees…a tree did this."

"I am happy to hear you are blaming the foliage and not my wife," Erik nodded.

"No, I don't blame Christine…I blame you!" he shot back, pointing his finger at him. "And you owe me a hundred dollars!"

Erik gave a snort of laughter. "You think that is all it will cost to fix this?"

"No, of course not. And whatever it _does_ cost, you'll pay for it," he informed his boss. "The hundred dollars is for the bet I won…since I told you that teaching Christine to drive yourself was a bad idea. You're too lenient with her, you don't teach, you allow, you coddle, and you don't think about telling her to stop or slow down."

"I do not wish for her to be angry with me," he explained, a look of worry in his eyes. "And she was having such a good time…until she hit the tree, that is."

"You have to be her _teacher_ , Erik, not her husband," Amir told him. "Would you let her slide when it came to using her voice correctly?"

"NEVER!" he barked. "And Christine knows it too."

"Then you need to take on being a driving instructor the same way you are a music teacher," Amir stated. "Be firm with her…fair, but firm. She is a bright woman, don't treat her like a child." He then gave his car one final look, before holding out his hand to Erik. "The keys, please."

Taking them from his pocket, he handed them back to Amir.

"And my hundred dollars?" the Persian reminded him.

With a low growl, Erik pulled out his wallet and paid the man his money.

"Just don't you dare let Christine know about this," he ordered. "She does not take kindly to us betting on what she might, or might not, do. Understand?"

"Perfectly." He walked over and opened the driver's door, preparing to move his car away from the offending tree. "But first thing tomorrow, my baby goes to the car hospital…right?"

"Yes," Erik sighed. "You are insane."

"And you'd be the expert on that, now wouldn't you?" Amir laughed, climbing in and shutting the door before Erik could get out a scathing retort.

* * *

 **Oh my! Poor Amir, his baby is damaged! FIX IT ERIK!**

 **So, looks like Erik WAS happy to see her...and she helped him make some decisions about the upcoming ball!**

 **So, did you like Erik's reaction to most of the costumes? Do you approve of the ones they chose?**

 **Looks like Erik is going to have to stop being so lenient on Christine as he teaches her to drive. But he doesn't want her to be upset with him either. Maybe Gerald should do the training? ha ha.**

 _ **Contest:**_ Many of you are trying to guess WHEN Erik and Christine will at last give in and sleep together for real. I have been working off a calendar for this story, writing down what happens to them each day so that I don't lose track of time and when I want things to happen. Since the consummation of their marriage has already been written, would you all like to guess on what day it happens? Today's chapter took place on Monday, May 1st. So if you can guess the month and the day correctly, you can win a free snippet card! Granted, I can't reveal the winner until I post the chapter when it actually DOES happen, but hopefully someone will guess correctly. Again, Guest reviewers can play, but I am unable to award anyone a snippet who does not have an account. You have until Monday's chapter in order to get your guesses in. After that I can't accept any more dates. Have fun!

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Hollie:** I was really touched by your words, and thank you from the bottom (and top) of my heart! So, you have read ALL of my stories? Even my secret one? I feel very privileged that you chose this one to respond to, it means a lot. Sorry you have to wait for chapters, I too prefer to read completed stories, ha ha. I hate waiting. Trying to find new things for Erik and Christine to do...and where to do it...is getting harder each time out, but then another idea just pops into my head and I can't let it go till it is written. I have no plans to stop writing, it is one of my favorite hobbies and best of all, it doesn't cost anything but time and the price of having the internet. ha ha. Thanks again and hope to hear more from you as we go along.

 **Gummy:** You poor thing...I will send Erik over and he can sing you to sleep and get rid of those dastardly nightmares...that you created yourself. ha ha. Yes, that poor man is so freaked out that Erik will learn that he hit on Christine! But Amir will keep his mouth shut...I hope. WHAT? Noooo, the horror! Don't do that to the poor guy, it was an innocent mistake, don't make him watch that! I only watch it up to where Christine sings and then I stop. The rest I refuse to believe ever happened.

 **Guest C:** Yep, the driving lessons have begun...and then halted just as quickly when she hit the tree. ha ha. Poor Amir. Erik is calm...more calm than you would think he would be...but according to Amir, he needs to be more strict. ha ha. YOU might want to know what Charles has to say about Erik...but Erik does NOT. Yes, of course Erik was happy to see Christine, and that very well MIGHT be one of the things on his list. ha ha. Thanks for the review.

 **Kristin:** Erik has put the fear into all his employees...and with good cause. ha ha. Don't cross him. Charles is indeed on the mend...it will just take time. I don't think he would ever give Erik the finger...maybe a right hook to the jaw. ha ha. I kind of think Erik might have told him SOME of that already, and if not, I'm pretty sure he could guess...seeing as how he was moved to Leathwood the day of the wedding. He's a smart man. Thanks.


	37. Chapter 37

.

 **It's after midnight...so technically it IS Friday.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **.**

 **Chapter 37**

 **~X~**

* * *

The following day Christine made sure to bring Amir an extra-large cup of coffee from the commissary during her lunch break.

"I had them put in two shots of caramel, and double the whip cream," she told him, hoping that her peace offering would suffice. "Again…I'm really sorry about your car."

"Christine," Amir said with a shake of his head. "I'm not upset… _really._ It was an accident, and my car is at the shop getting fixed as we speak. Don't give it another thought." He did accept the coffee however. Amir might not be upset, but even he couldn't pass up the delicious aroma from her offering. "And this is all a part of learning. It's natural."

"Still…I'm not sure I even _want_ to drive now," she moaned, plopping down on the bench beside him, completely ignoring his previous orders to always sit behind him. "Not if I'm _that_ bad at it."

"That was your first time behind the wheel, and I already informed Erik that he was taking things too quickly for you," Amir told her, sipping at the coffee and shutting his eyes in pleasure. "Ahhh…this is good."

"Glad you like it." Christine was happy to see it put a smile on his face.

"And you shouldn't give up learning to drive," Amir continued. "It's an important skill that could come in handy one day."

"I know…but, now I'm scared," she confessed, opening the lid on the cob salad she had purchased. "I mean, how would Erik have felt if I had damaged one of _his_ fancy cars?" Christine then gave Amir a wide-eyed look. "Not saying your car isn't fancy, or anything!"

"You need to stop worrying about my car," he insisted, laughing a bit at her concern. "And Erik probably wouldn't have batted an eye. He's kind of odd that way…holds no sentimental attachment to things. Or places…or people really," he mused. "Well, at least until recently, that is." Here he gave her a little wink. "Erik never had many things growing up, and until we moved here to New York, he never saw any need to acquire them either. And then I think he only did because it was expected of him, not because he needed them or anything."

"So, as long as we are on the subject of Erik and material things…is there anything you can think he might want? As a gift, I mean?" Christine had been meaning to ask Amir this for a week now, since she was very much aware that their one-month anniversary was quickly approaching. And while Erik had assured her that he was willing to give her a full sixty days to get used to the idea of sex, Christine wanted to get him some small gift to show her appreciation for all he had done for her and her father thus far. Yet what does one get the man who has everything?

"Might you be thinking of an anniversary gift?" the Persian asked, a knowing smile on his face. "I do believe that this Friday is May fifth…one month to the day."

"I know…and I want to get Erik something he will like," she insisted.

"Whatever you get him, he will love," Amir laughed, knowing that Christine could give him a rock she dug out of the backyard and Erik would cherish it.

"But I want it to be something he will like as well…and perhaps use?" she said, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "Help!"

"No way, not gunna happen!" Amir stated firmly, holding up his hand in protest. "This coffee buys you forgiveness, not my attempted suicide. You're on your own, girl."

"Amir!" she whined. "You know him best, tell me what to do."

"Buy him a tie then, or a sweater…isn't that the customary go-to gift for men?" he suggested.

"Fine! Be that way," she huffed, shoving a big bite of her salad into her mouth. "But don't come crying to me when you have to follow me around the city for hours and hours while I search for the perfect gift!"

"Hey, I get paid either way," he said with a shrug of indifference, returning his attention to his coffee, as Christine sat there and seethed.

.

.

Before leaving that day, Christine hunted down Meg, catching her friend on the way to the practice room.

"Hey Chris," Meg greeted her warmly. "Have you come down to earth yet after that heavenly performance of yours?"

"Not yet," Christine laughed. "But I was wondering, might I ask a favor of you?"

"Sure thing," the ballerina agreed. "What can I do for ya?"

"Can you teach me to dance?" Christine begged.

"Uh…I thought I did that already," Meg laughed, giving her an odd look.

"For my skit, yes, but I mean _dance dance_ …as in the waltz or what one might do at a fancy ball," she explained.

"Ohhhh, you mean for that annual party all the rich and famous throw once a year?" Meg guessed, a big smile spreading over her face. "Mother told me about you coming up with the costume idea and everything. I would kill to get an invite to that…not that I could ever hope to afford to go, but maybe one day when I'm a big dancing star."

"And with how you performed last Saturday, I have no doubt that will be very soon," Christine assured her.

"But sure, I can teach you a move or two, so you won't embarrass yourself at the ball, Cinderella," Meg laughed.

"Actually, I'm going as a Spanish Rose, opposite to Erik's Zorro," she revealed. "The dress is a bit risqué, but after he put the kibosh on all the other outfits, I was just happy he finally chose one."

"You mean like a Spanish Flamenco dress?" Meg was instantly intrigued. "Oh, Chris…you've got to learn the tango then! That would be beyond perfect if you two did _that_ dance…I mean, your costumes literally demand it!"

"The tango?" Christine gave Meg a skeptical look. "Isn't that a bit…I don't know…sexy?"

"Of course it is! And who better to do it with than your husband?" Meg was nearly bouncing with excitement now. "I mean…assuming he knows the dance."

"Actually, I do recall him mentioning once that he did," Christine stated, remembering that rather heated conversation quite well.

"Great, it's settled then," she said with a firm nod. "You and me…every day after classes in the practice room…starting tomorrow. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Christine saluted, her friend's enthusiasm being contagious. "See you tomorrow."

.

.

When Christine walked in to her father's room, she was still fretting about what to get Erik as a gift. She swore that it was going to drive her insane until she thought of something perfect. Yet, miraculously, the moment she spotted her father, sitting in his normal spot, enjoying the sights outside his window, it suddenly came to her.

"A violin case!" she blurted out, almost laughing at the sheer simplicity of the idea, which made it even more perfect.

"What's that dear?" Susan asked, coming in behind her, carrying a glass of water with a straw.

"Oh, nothing, I was just thinking out loud," she confessed, a bit embarrassed at having been overheard. But in her mind, Christine knew it was something. Not only was it a gift that Erik would use and appreciate, it reminded her very much of the present her mother had given her father on _their_ first wedding anniversary. She wondered if it was too soon for such a meaningful gesture, knowing that Erik would undoubtedly also recall the story behind the thought. But hadn't he earned it? He had been nothing but accommodating and kind…well, unless you counted their three blowups. But every married couple has issues, and it was how they dealt with them that really mattered. Yes, a violin case it would be!

"Oh, then forget I asked," Susan nodded, quickly changing the subject. "I brought Charles a drink of juice, would you like to give it to him while I go check on something? I think he really missed seeing you yesterday."

"Oh? How can you tell?" she asked curiously.

"A woman can sense things," Susan told her with a wink. "I'm getting pretty good at reading your father's thoughts."

"Well, hopefully if he keeps up with his improvements, he'll be able to tell us his thoughts himself!" Christine laughed, taking the glass and heading over to talk with her father. "Sorry I didn't come by yesterday, Papa," she began taking Susan's words to heart. "Gerald's girlfriend, Charlotte…you remember her from the night of the recital…well, her car broke down and he had to go rescue her from being stranded. So, I asked him to drop me off at Phantom Industries and I had Erik take me home." Christine put the straw to his lips, waiting while he took a few sips of the liquid before continuing. "And, I'm afraid I must beg your forgiveness in advance for not visiting tomorrow and Friday as well. You see…I have some very important shopping to do, and I'm afraid it can't wait. I need to buy Erik an anniversary present, and I've decided on a violin case…just like mom gave you." Here was where she really wished her father could speak, for his advice on the subject would have been invaluable. "And then, I'll have to hurry right home and get things ready on Friday so I can surprise him with a nice dinner. I'll probably have to hit Mrs. Murphy up for a good recipe though, not sure he would appreciate having my lasagna again…and you know that's my one go-to dish."

She was silent for a few moments, debating on whether she should attempt to get a response out of him or not. Yet she just couldn't resist, needed to feel that connection with him once again. So, setting the glass of water aside, she leaned in a bit closer.

"Papa…I'm going to hold your hand, and if you understood what I just said, could you give your fingers a little wiggle? Please?" Gently taking hold of it, she waited patiently, her eyes never leaving his. Almost instantly, Christine was rewarded with a slight movement just like before, causing her to nearly burst with joy. "Oh, Papa! I just can't get over it…I'm getting you back!" Jumping out of her seat and throwing her arms around his neck, she kissed his cheek over and over. "Thank you! Thank you, Papa! I love you so much!"

.

.

On her way home, Gerald remarked that she seemed a lot happier now than when he had picked her up at Juilliard.

"That's because I was stumped about something, but now I'm not," she explained. "And because my father wiggled his fingers again today!"

"That's great news!" he grinned.

"I know!" she nodded. "Oh, and I was wondering if you could drive me someplace different tomorrow after picking me up."

"Oh…and where would that be?" he asked, sounding a bit concerned.

"Someplace secret, so you can't tell Erik about it," Christine insisted. When she saw him stiffen just a bit, she quickly added. "It's for a good reason. I need to buy him an anniversary gift, but I don't want him to find out about it. All right?"

"Oh, well that sounds fine to me," he said with a sigh of relief. "And I promise not to say a word. However, you better tell Amir the same thing."

"Good thinking. I will tomorrow at lunch," she agreed, knowing that Erik relied on Amir to keep him up to date on things. "I think he'll be okay with it." But perhaps another frothy coffee drink wouldn't hurt as a bribe."

.

.

Meanwhile, Erik was thinking along the same lines as Christine, also keenly aware that their one-month anniversary was that Friday, and Erik knew exactly what he wanted to gift his little angel with.

Locking himself in his office once again, he poured over the internet, clicking through page after page, site after site, until he at last found exactly what he was searching for.

A quick series of phone calls later, and Erik sat back in his chair with a look of pride. Oh, yes… _this_ would be perfect, he thought to himself. Christine will love it!

Now, he only had to get it home, which was where Erik found himself stuck. With the aid of credit cards and bank transfers, he had become very apt at buying things without needing to be physically present, but if they couldn't be put in a FedEx box and delivered to the house, that required that he go pick it up. And he hated doing that.

Thankfully, he had someone to do such things for him, now didn't he? Pulling out his phone, he quickly tapped Amir's number.

"Hello, Erik," came the friendly voice of the Persian. "What laborious job do you wish for me to tackle for you now?"

"Oh, nothing too terrible," Erik almost laughed, amused by Amir's snarkyness. "I need you to schedule a pick up for Christine's anniversary gift."

"I was wondering if you would remember," he chuckled. "Good to see that you're not following after so many other brainless husbands and forgot about it."

"I would never forget such an important date!" Erik scoffed.

"No, I suppose _you_ wouldn't," Amir agreed. "So, what will it be? Are you going traditional or modern?"

"What?" Erik asked. "What are you talking about?"

"One-year anniversary gifts…or in your case, one-month…are traditionally made of paper. While the modern version is a clock."

"Paper? Like money?" Erik was confused.

"Yah…I guess, but I seriously doubt Christine would be happy if you gave her money," Amir warned.

"Then what would a good paper gift be?" Erik pressed.

"I don't know! I only read on the internet that it's paper! Or a clock." Amir responded in an irritated tone.

"Well, both of those ideas sound ridiculous," Erik huffed, finding nothing exciting about such suggestions. "I have something else in mind. I will text you the details so you can go pick it up when it is ready."

"It's not sexy underwear, is it?" came the dubious voice over the phone. "I am _not_ going to pick up any slutty undergarments for Christine…or you!"

"If you do not stop mentioning Christine's intimate attire, I am going to go down to the body shop and personally key your car!" Erik threatened.

"Shutting up now," was Amir's quick reply, followed by utter silence.

"Good," Erik said with an air of superiority. "I'm sending you the information now. And do not forget, it is a secret."

"My lips are sealed," he laughed, enjoying how excited Erik seemed over this. After so many years of his friend acting as if he were made of wood, it was nice to see him showing some feelings for a change. Maybe Pinocchio was turning into a real boy after all.

.

.

The next day came, with both Erik and Christine heading out with a secretive smile on their faces. It had been harder than each had realized to not give away their surprises during dinner, or while they were having their music lesson. Every now and then, they would catch each other with a secretive grin on their faces, prompting them to ask what it was that had them so happy. Each time, they would do their best to cover it over, not wanting to let the cat out of the bag.

So as Christine headed to the practice room on Wednesday, she knew she only had two more days, and she wanted everything perfect. She had already asked Mrs. Murphy to write down the recipe for Erik's favorite dish so she could cook it for him on Friday. Christine was no slouch in the kitchen, but she was more of a short order cook than a gourmet…still, it was the thought that counted, right?

.

.

"Now, the first thing to know about the tango, is that it's all about sex," Meg began, pulling Christine onto the dance floor.

"Oh, good grief," Christine moaned, her face turning red. "I don't think I can do this."

"Sure you can, Chris," Meg insisted. "First we'll start with the embrace, and trust me, this is numero uno when it comes to the tango. The embrace is physically simple, but it's got to be sensual, loose but firm, and poised. Erik will raise his left hand while wrapping his right arm around you, placing his hand on your back, like this." Here she demonstrated, placing her palm centered slightly below Christine's shoulder blades. "Now, you'll raise your right hand to his left and place your other arm in the same position mine is now."

"This feels strange," Christine complained, her face scrunched up a bit.

"Well of course it does…I'm a girl, duh," she chuckled. "But when you have your man in your arms, it will be delicious."

"You make it sound like we are making a cake, not learning to dance," Christine laughed.

"Well, there are a lot of steps to making a cake, just like there are a lot of steps to learning the tango," Meg pointed out. "Now, let's get cooking."

.

.

The first thing Meg said they needed to do was learn the moves, with the ballerina giving verbal directions for every step.

"Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow. Forward with my left, backward with your right. Forward with my right, backward with your left. Forward left, backward right. Then to the right with my right, and to the left with your left. Next, feet together, moving left to meet right for me, and right to meet right for you. That's it! Now, repeat!"

"Repeat?" Christine gasped. "How can I repeat when I didn't follow a thing you said?"

"Oh come on, you'll get the hang of it," Meg laughed.

.

.

For the next hour, Meg patiently went over the steps again and again until Christine was comfortable with them, able to follow her instructions to the letter.

"Are you sure you don't want to practice some more?" her friend asked.

"No, not today," Christine told her, wiping her face with a cloth. "I have some shopping to do before I go home."

"Oooooo, is it a fancy dress to titillate your husband with?" Meg asked batting her eyes playfully.

"No, it's his _anniversary present_ ," Christine said, smacking her friend playfully on the arm. "Now stop making cow eyes at me."

"That's so adorable, you two are celebrating by the month?" Meg squealed.

"Well…maybe not _every_ month, but I think our first is kind of special," she mused, wondering if Erik would find her efforts touching…or silly. He was probably not expecting any of this, and she only hoped he would be all right with the fuss she was making.

"Still, I think it's the bomb!" Meg told her. "So go, scurry away and get him a gift to knock his socks off. Because, something tells me that man hasn't had his hosiery knocked off enough times in his life…he could really use it."

"I'll do my best," Christine assured her, grabbing her bag and heading out the door, eager to find the perfect case.

.

.

It took Christine nearly two hours to locate a store that had anything close to what she had been envisioning. But when she saw it…she knew it was the perfect one. It was made of fine leather, tanned a light chocolate color, with polished brass hinges and clasp. She cringed at the price, but knew it was worth every penny. And the best part was, Christine had kept the check Raffie had sent her in the mail, only cashing it now in order to buy Erik's present with her own money. It certainly wouldn't do for a credit card purchase at a music store to show up on his online bank statement, alerting him to where she had been shopping, now would it?

Walking out of the store, with the case carefully held in her hands, she gave a happy wave at Gerald.

"I found it!" Christine told him, holding up the gift.

"Great!" the man replied, opening the door for her as she hopped inside. "And we only had to go to four different stores."

"Oh, you poor baby," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Just be glad it wasn't six or seven stores."

"Hey, anything to make you smile like that," Gerald laughed, shutting the door and coming around to the front as he slipped into the driver's seat.

"Gerald…I was wondering," Christine began in a hopeful tone. "Might I be able to leave the case with you? I have no idea where I would put it in the house that Erik wouldn't see it. Just my luck I'd hide it in the one spot he happens to look before Friday."

"Sure thing," the driver nodded. "Can't have him ruining your surprise, now can we? And I'm willing to bet Mr. Thorn will be grinning just as much as you are now when he sees it."

"I hope so," she agreed, running her hand over the fine leather case, loving the way it felt beneath her palm. "I really hope so."

.

.

Later that night, as the two got ready for bed, Christine had been thinking about something Erik had said…about how she was never going to become comfortable with the idea of physical contact unless they engaged in some. And the more she thought about it, the more she had to agree. After all, she had once hated the taste of broccoli, refusing to even touch the stuff when her father put it on her plate. And no matter how much he insisted it was good for her, she would never take a bite. But then, he began to put cheese sauce on it, and tentatively she gave it another try, finding that after a few more dinners, she actually liked it. Now it was one of her favorite vegetables, right up there with corn and carrots.

So, summoning all her courage, Christine reached out her hand, stopping Erik from shutting off the light.

"Is something the matter, Christine?" Erik asked, confused by her deviation in their usual nighttime routine.

"No…I mean…not really," she stammered, wondering if she could do this…or if she even should. "I was just wondering…if…well…would you like to kiss me goodnight?"

Erik sat there in bed, his eyes glued to hers with his mouth open in shock. Had she just asked him to kiss her? Christine wanted him, Erik Thorn, to kiss her… _on the lips?_ He had dreamed of doing exactly that every night since he met her…and here she was _asking him_. This was amazing!

"Would…would you please repeat that?" he asked, his voice hardly above a whisper.

"I…I asked if you wanted to…kiss me goodnight," Christine said once again, though her courage was quickly ebbing away. "I just thought that, well…as you said, if we never do stuff like that, how am I supposed to get used to such things?"

"I wholeheartedly agree!" Erik stated, perhaps more firmly than needed, but he was not about to let her change her mind. "I think it is a very sensible thing. And a kiss goodnight is a good place to start."

"All right," Christine nodded, taking a few deep breaths. His last kisses had nearly sent her into shock, so she needed to prepare herself for this. "Umm…how do we start?" The first one had begun with a burst of anger, and the second one had been prompted by their close proximity.

"How about you close your eyes, and I will lean in…and kiss you," Erik offered, thinking the act seemed very straightforward to him. "Does that meet with your approval, or would you prefer to be the one doing the giving?"

"No…no, you can," she assured him, knowing that if she was the one calling the shots, she would panic and chicken out. "So, I just close my eyes?"

"Unless you prefer to leave them open," he offered. "Your choice."

"Will…will it be a French kiss?" she questioned, not sure she was ready for anything fancy. And since Erik had said he'd been born in Paris, it was quite likely he might be an expert at that.

"No, Christine," Erik said, doing his best not to laugh, for fear of offending her and being denied this pleasure. "It will be a simple kiss, I promise."

"All right, I just needed to know so I could be ready," she explained, wiggling around until she was in a comfortable sitting position. "I'm ready now. Kiss away." And shutting her eyes, she waited, unsure if she should pucker up or not.

Erik stared at her for a moment, loving the scene of his wife, there, waiting patiently for his expression of affection. A kiss was such a simple thing, given and received by everyone from a baby to a grandparent, and yet, to him…it was everything. He had done this many times in the past, but never in all his life had he felt this much joy and anticipation over the act. This was _Christine_ , and he would not mess it up.

So leaning in, he allowed his lips to lightly hover a hair's breadth from hers, savoring the scent of her honeysuckle shampoo and vanilla body wash. Then, with the utmost care, he made contact, and this time he let the pressure remain light, not wishing to frighten her in any way. It was very enjoyable, and he truly hoped she felt the same way, knowing that any further access he might have to Christine's personage rested on this moment. Before she might protest, though far sooner than he would have liked, Erik pulled back, his eyes desperately searching her face for any sign of revulsion.

Christine's eyes remained closed, wishing to savor the final seconds of what she considered a rather wonderful kiss. It had been very sweet, tender even, which proved that Erik appeared able to modulate his demonstrations of affection, going from very fast, to pleasingly slow, and all points in-between. Still…there was something to be said for intense passion, as well as the little flutters she felt in her stomach.

Opening her eyes she stared up into his, the intensity of his gaze causing her breath to catch in her throat.

"That…that was very nice," she told him, having to clear her throat in order to speak. Actually, it was more than nice…it had been fantastic, but perhaps she should wait to hand out such staggering compliments until later.

"I too enjoyed it," Erik agreed. "Might I suggest we make it a nightly ritual?"

"I think that would be acceptable," Christine smiled.

"Then I bid you a pleasant evening, and will see you in the morning," Erik told her, once again reaching over to turn out the light. He was suddenly in desperate need of the darkness in order to cover over his unbounding joy, and the last thing he wanted was to frighten her by his _exuberance_.

"Yes, goodnight, Erik," she responded, laying down and turning on her side like she usually did. "See you in the morning."

Once the room was bathed in darkness, Erik lay there, staring at the ceiling, not the least bit sleepy. His first thought was to open his drawer and mark yet another marriage milestone off his list, but it would have to wait until she was fully asleep. Receiving a willing kiss from Christine had been one of the things Erik had long desired to cross off. Yet it had finally come, and before the end of their first month too! As he had once told Christine, he had never had a specific timeline for his expectations, but right now, Erik felt things were going along swimmingly!

"Erik?" came Christine's soft voice, pulling him from his reverie.

"Yes?" he answered.

"Thank you for the kiss," she mumbled, her voice showing that she was near to sleep.

"No, Christine," Erik whispered back. "Thank _you_."

* * *

 **There was KISSING! And it was Christine's idea! I smell progress.**

 **And thanks for nothing Amir, you were no help at all. Good thing Christine came up with the perfect gift...or at least she hopes it will be.**

 **But what is ERIK getting her?**

 **Soooooo, the tango, huh? Wonder what Erik will think of THAT!**

 **There, a nice place to stop for the weekend. And don't forget you only have till Monday to choose your date for the contest. If it helps you keep track of the days, Friday is their one month anniversary, May 5th.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest:** So, you love your truck like Amir does his car? Cool! And Erik will pay, and pay, and pay. h a ha. Christine did pretty good coming up with ideas, right? Glad you are enjoying it all, and hope you liked this chapter just as much. Thanks.

 **Kristin:** Yah, now and then I toss them in...did you see the one in this chapter...when Erik had to turn off the light really fast. ha ha. Nope, no one is perfect at everything...and Christine is not a Marry Sue. I get a few will be wearing masks, but only if their character calls for it...this is not a masquerade. So you don't want creeper Raoul showing up at the ball? Why not? He creates all kinds of 'fun'. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Guest:** Your suggestion that Christine go as a farm girl and Erik her cow just cracked me up! Oh, wouldn't he had just died if she suggested that. Thanks for the good belly laugh.

 **Gummy:** Ha ha, nice to see you are the 'forgiving' type, ha ha. And your threat of making him watch LND over and over is just vicious. ha ha. As for the whole 'sweetie' thing...I would never HAVE told him, but when I opened your review, Erik was reading over my shoulder and he saw it. But don't worry, he only blushed a bit and smiled. I think you are safe. Erik also says he will take yours...and Amir's...advice and step up his game as a driving instructor. Thanks.

 **Cayla:** Yes, Driving is a skill one must master. And Erik will buckle down and really teach her soon. And it WAS only Amir's car, so no biggie. ha ha. And of course he dropped everything the moment she walked into his office...as all good husbands should. ha ha. I THOUGHT of a masquerade...trying to keep some of the POTO stuff in, but it was not 'modern' enough, so a costume ball sounded more the way to go. You should google Zorro costume, and see what comes up. Sexy! Thanks.


	38. Chapter 38

.

 **Hello, hello!**

 **Happy Monday!**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 38**

 **~X~**

* * *

The next morning began much like the rest, with Erik and Christine sharing a nice breakfast, talking over their meal and then getting ready to head out. Yet, this time, as Erik fixed his tie and picked up his jacket, he noticed Christine standing rather close to him, blocking his path to the garage door.

"Is there something you wish to tell me, Christine?" Erik asked, cocking his head to one side as he studied her rather shy expression.

Christine had been mulling this over in her mind all morning, deciding if she still had enough courage left after last night to bring up the topic again. But she had enjoyed their goodnight kiss so much, she was not sure she could wait a full twenty-four hours to experience it again. Besides…she knew for a fact that this was one of the things Erik had on his secret husband list…and as they say, _in for a penny, in for a pound._

"I just thought…don't husbands and wives sometimes kiss each other goodbye…as well as goodnight?" she questioned.

Erik couldn't help but feel his heart leap at her words. She wanted to kiss him…again! He had to work hard to control his elation over her request, doing everything he could not to simply grab her and pull her to him like he wished to. No…he needed to remain calm, take it slow, and not scare her. Erik only hoped he had enough force of will to contain his overwhelming passion for Christine.

"I have heard they often do," Erik agreed, his voice only betraying a bit of his joy, though he couldn't stop the wide smile that touched his lips. Oh, this kissing thing was turning out to be a wonderful addition to their daily, and nightly, routine. "Would you care to give it a try?"

"I'm willing if you are," she confessed, eagerly stepping a bit closer as she stood on her tiptoes, doing her best to reach his lips.

Thankfully, Erik leaned down just a bit, making the job easier. Once again they kept things light, yet just as before, both felt a definite flash of fire running through their veins, alerting them to the fact that something more than marital tradition was happening here. When Erik pulled back, and Christine's heels were back on the floor, neither one spoke - nor could they seem to take their eyes off each other.

"Goodbye, my darling wife," Erik whispered, reaching up to stroke the side of her cheek, allowing his thumb to brush ever so gently over her lips…the ones he had just been blessed to taste. "I will see you this evening."

"I'll be here," she nodded, still a bit breathless from the kiss. Oh, this man truly was a master at this. "Have…have a nice day."

"With a start like this, how could it not be so?" he said with a grin. Then, turning, he headed for the garage, leaving the house in an exceptionally good mood.

.

.

Christine's morning classes zoomed by, and soon it was time for lunch. Stopping at the commissary, she chose a simple chicken wrap and headed out to the common area, thinking she might eat with Amir once again. Yet when she arrived at their normal bench, she was shocked to find not the Persian… _but Erik_.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her eyes alight with excitement.

"I told you that I would come have lunch with you one day, when my schedule permitted," he reminded her, patting the seat next to him invitingly. "And this seemed the perfect day."

"Well, I'm honored that you chose to spend your free time with me, then," she grinned, plopping down beside him. "So…do you want to share my chicken wrap?"

"That is kind of you to offer, but I thought perhaps we might dine on _this_ instead." Reaching down, Erik picked up a lovely woven picnic basket, placing it on his knees as he opened one side of the flip-top lid. "I brought chicken pasta primavera, a garden salad with Italian dressing, a loaf of bread, and a bottle of sparkling apple cider…since you should not be partaking of alcoholic beverages during school hours."

"Oh, Erik!" she squealed. "It smells delicious!" Yet as he began to unpack the items, Christine noticed the containers appeared rather familiar. "Where did you get this?"

"From your old restaurant," Erik admitted, impressed by her keen eye. "I had some errands to run this morning and decided to stop by Raffie's to speak to him in person about his catering the charity ball. He was quite accommodating, and I believe we have agreed upon a fine menu, as well as an amiable settlement for his services. He was also kind enough to open the kitchen early in order to provide us with lunch."

"That _was_ nice of him," she grinned, opening the container and taking a bite of the steaming hot pasta. Shutting her eyes, she savored the flavor. "Raffie's food never disappoints."

"Let us hope that is also the case at the charity ball as well," Erik nodded, picking up a fork and taking a bite as well. "Yet, I must confess, that cuisine was not what drew me to the restaurant each night. I came to see you."

"I kind of got that impression," Christine admitted with a bit of a blush. "Although, the first time you came in, you hadn't ever met me. So what brought you then?"

"A business dinner," Erik was forced to admit, hoping Christine would leave it at that. He was sorely disappointed.

"You had business with _those guys_? Even that creepy one named Morte?" she questioned, recalling how he had come on to her like a raging bull.

"It was not something I enjoyed, though I must admit I will forever be grateful for joining them that night," he told her. "For it afforded me the opportunity to meet you. Might we please drop this subject…it is not exactly good lunch conversation."

"All, right," she agreed. "But one more question first."

"Very well," he sighed, opening the bottle of sparkling apple cider and pouring it into two wine flutes.

"When you made Morte apologize to me," Christine began, her curiosity over this point never having been fully put to rest. "What was it you were holding at his side under the table? I couldn't really see from where I stood, but he looked terrified." Here she lowered her voice, afraid that anyone might overhear. "Was it a knife? A gun?"

Christine was a bit surprised when Erik laughed out loud at her question, having expected him to be rather reluctant to answer…or perhaps even angered by her asking.

"No, my inquisitive little wife," he chuckled, taking a sip of his drink before he continued. "I required no such weapon to intimidate that buffoon. All I needed was my reputation, and the fact that he knew I could harm him quite easily if I chose to do so. It was only a spoon from the table…nothing more. But Morte did not know that, which made all the difference."

"A spoon?" Christine couldn't help but laugh as well. "Oh, that's rich! Who would have known that a simple piece of dinnerware could be so dangerous?"

"Trust me, Christine, in the right hands, many innocent looking items can become a deadly weapon," he informed her. "It all depends on your circumstances, and what is currently available to you."

"You sound as if you're an expert on this sort of thing," she commented, her tone turning a bit serious.

"When you grow up with a face like mine, you learn quite early how to defend yourself, Christine," he told her, his own voice now taking on a cold air. "But again, this is a subject I would not care to pursue further. Instead, tell me about your day thus far."

"Oh…all right," Christine agreed, not wishing for their enjoyable lunch to be spoiled by dark conversation. "Well, not much to tell, now that the spring recital is complete, we are just working on the basic things, like voice, tone, and projection. With only a few more weeks before the summer break, the professors are mostly concentrating on showing us how to keep in practice, so we won't forget all we learned in the meantime."

"Will you miss attending classes during your months off?" Erik asked, taking a bit of butter on a knife and spreading it over a couple pieces of the warm bread, handing one to her.

"Of course I will," she admitted, taking a bite of the delicious baked goods. "But, unlike the other students, I have my voice coach living with me, so I won't fall behind."

"That you will not," Erik nodded firmly. "Yet, without Juilliard taking up the majority of your days, have you decided what you might wish to do with your time?"

"Well…I would like to continue learning to drive," she said, giving him a hopeful look. "That is, if I haven't ruined all my chances of that by wrecking Amir's car."

"Not at all," Erik assured her. "And I encourage you to pursue the skill, as it would be of great benefit for you to learn. Anything else?"

"I noticed the other day that my roses are starting to get buds on them, and the fall bulbs are poking up as well," she told him with a rather proud smile. "So, that got me thinking, that maybe I could plant a few more flowers, and maybe another rose bush or two?"

"Then I will inform the gardener to purchase you more items to plant, and spade up a little area wherever you choose," he agreed, happy that she was finding pleasure in doing things around the house.

"Other than that…I think I will enjoy spending more time with my father, especially now that he is showing so much improvement," she went on, twirling the pasta around her fork as she took another eager bite. "He can move his fingers a bit quicker now, and Susan said he's doing it more often as well. Pretty soon they hope to get little touch pads to put on the ends of his wheelchair, so that he can tap on the right for yes, and the left for no. That way we can ask him questions and he can answer us! Won't that be exciting?"

"Very," Erik nodded, though in his mind he worried about what Charles Daaé might have to say about _him_. Still, Erik had Christine's signature on a contract, and no amount of disapproval from her father could change that. He only hoped that he wouldn't have to remind his wife of her contractual obligations…they had come so far, and he truly hated the idea of losing that now.

They talked for a bit longer, until all the food was gone and Christine's lunch break was almost up.

"I forgot to ask," she said, looking to the left and right with a curious expression. "Where's Amir? Is he still skulking around someplace?"

"Skulking?" Erik chuckled, enjoying the visual that description conjured in his mind. "No, he is running an errand for me at present. But do not worry, if he fails to return before I must depart, I have placed Gerald on alert, and he will make sure you are safe."

"I'm in a very prestigious school with excellent security you know," she reminded him. "I hardly think I need a bodyguard while in class."

"Still, you must indulge me…I do worry," he insisted.

"Yes, you do," she agreed. "And I think it's sweet of you to do so."

 _Sweet?_ Well that was one thing Erik had never been accused of being before. Yet he found he rather liked it…coming from Christine at least.

"But now I fear it is time for you to go back to class," he stated sadly, looking at his watch with a disappointed shake of his head. Erik had thoroughly enjoyed his time with her, and decided to make more of an effort to do this again, hopefully before the summer break.

"Oh, right," she said, helping him repack the basket before standing up. "Thank you very much for coming to have lunch with me. I had a very nice time."

"As did I," he nodded, also rising from his seat. "Now, hurry along and I will see you this evening."

"Yes…yes you will," she agreed. Then without any warning, she stepped forward, grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him down so that she could plant a quick kiss on his lips, surprising both of them just a bit by her boldness. Still, the act left the two of them smiling, and Christine rushed off before he could say anything…or see the deep blush that came to her cheeks.

"Well now…things do seem to be heating up between the two of you," came the unmistakable voice of Amir.

Erik turned to see his friend leaning against the trunk of a tree not too far away, with a rather smug look on his irritating face.

"Perhaps skulking is an apt description of what you do," Erik huffed, turning around to finish snapping the picnic basket shut.

"Skulking?" Amir questioned, pushing off from the tree and heading over. "Where did that word come from?"

"Christine," Erik informed him with a sly grin.

"Well, that's a bit harsh, don't you think?" Amir said with a look of disgust.

"Perhaps…but accurate," Erik continued. "Now, did you manage to get it?"

"Yep, your gift is quite securely stashed at home," the Persian said with a measure of pride. "And I have to say…Christine is going to love it."

"I hope so," Erik said, a tinge of worry in his eyes. "This is our first month anniversary…the first of many, I hope, and I want to make it very special."

"This should do it," Amir laughed, enjoying the new range of emotions his friend seemed to be displaying since marrying his wife. For a long time, the Persian had never imagined that Erik could find happiness, but to see him now truly made him believe in miracles.

"I now return the duty of watching over Christine to you," Erik announced, picking up the basket and heading for the parking lot.

"Wait…I didn't have a chance to grab any lunch while running your errand," he complained. "Got anything left in there?" He pointed to the picnic container hopefully.

"No, not a morsel," he informed him, yet then he realized that was a lie. Reaching in, he pulled out the chicken wrap Christine had originally bought for herself, before knowing that Erik had provided a much better fare. "You can have this," he suggested, tossing the cellophane wrapped item at him.

Catching it deftly in his hands, Amir eyed it skeptically.

"Does it have mustard on it?" he inquired, putting it to his nose and giving it a sniff.

"How would I know?" Erik huffed. "I didn't make the blasted thing." And with that, he turned and walked away, shaking his head at the Persian's foolish question.

"I really hate mustard," Amir pouted, opening the plastic wrap to inspect his would-be lunch.

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.

Christine met Meg in the practice room when her classes were done, the two women spending another fun but exhausting hour working on the steps for the tango. And while she was getting better, Christine knew she still had a long way to go before she felt ready to perform the dance…at least without embarrassing herself. Yet the more she thought about it, dancing such a thing with Erik would be rather… _enjoyable_. Finding herself imagining what it would be like to be held this way by Erik brought a smile to her face, leaving her breathless at the mere thought of feeling his body pressed so tightly against hers.

Meg had said this dance was all about sex, and to Christine's surprise, the idea was quickly becoming enticing to her. Would she insist on making Erik wait the full two months? _Did she even want to anymore?_ The kisses they had been sharing thus far had only heightened her growing desire for her husband's touch, and lately she had noticed that her mind dwelt on intimate activities more and more. Was she actually beginning to contemplate sleeping with her husband?

Yet, no matter how much she felt for Erik, how much he intrigued and enticed her…Christine found that something was still holding her back from truly giving in to those feelings. She kept thinking of Antoinette, whose husband had also been keeping secrets from her in their marriage. She only wished she knew more about Erik…or what he was hiding behind his mask.

"Excellent work today!" Meg complimented, as she walked over to the bench and grabbed her water bottle. "A few more days like that and you'll have it mastered. Then we can work on a simple waltz…just in case."

"Thank you," Christine told her friend. "I really appreciate you doing this."

"Well, we can't have you being a wallflower at the big charity ball, now can we?" Meg laughed. "And I can't wait to see your costume…how about you bring it with you on Monday for practice, that way you can try it out and see if it works well with the steps."

"Oh, that's a great idea!" Christine grinned. "I'll do that."

"Well, you better take off now, you don't want to miss seeing your dad today do ya?" Meg suggested, looking at the clock on the wall.

"Oh, no!" she said with a shake of her head. "I had to skip seeing him yesterday so I could go shopping for Erik's gift, and tomorrow I'll have to hurry home so I can start the anniversary dinner early enough to be done when he gets off work."

"I hope he knows what a lucky duck he is to have someone willing to go to all that trouble for him," Meg said with a sigh.

"You know what, Meg?" Christine said, a smile slowly gracing her lips. "I think I'm pretty fortunate myself." And for the first time since she had said _I do_ …she actually felt like she could mean those words. "Yes…very fortunate indeed."

.

.

Christine had been talking to her father for a few minutes when Susan appeared, having just gone down to the gift shop to pick up another book to read out loud to her father.

"We just finished the one with the pirates, and I thought he might enjoy this one next," she suggested, holding up the book for Christine's inspection.

"Little Son of Durin," she read out loud. "Sounds intriguing."

"I thought so, but let's see what your father thinks of it," Susan suggested, turning to look at Charles. "So tell me, handsome, would you like me to read you this one?" Then taking his hand in hers she instructed him on how to respond. "If you like the idea, don't move a muscle…but if you can't stand this genre, give my hand a big old squeeze."

After waiting half a minute without any movement at all from Charles, Susan concluded that he had no objection to the story.

"You know, my father could have simply been too tired to give any sign," Christine pointed out to the now happy nurse.

"True…" she agreed, a sly smile touching her lips. "But that was my plan, for this way there was no chance of a false negative. And I really want to read this one, you see."

"You are a shrewd one," Christine told her, so unbelievably happy that someone so kind and amusing was taking care of her beloved father. If Christine couldn't be there all the time to tend to him, she was glad that Susan was there to take her place.

"Well, it's better than me droning on and on about the weather or my commute to work in New York traffic," she informed her. "Isn't that right, Charles? I'm sure you'd be bored to tears in no time."

"I hardly believe that," Christine chuckled.

"Still, it helps break up the day when he gets visitors. And today he's had two! With as popular as he is, you'd think he was famous or something."

"Two?" Christine questioned, looking over at her father questioningly. "Who else came by to see him?" After her father had fallen ill, a few of his colleagues from the Met had come by, but little by little, their visits had stopped. Had one of them decided to resume calling on him?

"Your husband, of course," Susan informed her, acting as if Christine was silly for not knowing. "He's always dropping in for a quick visit, sometimes in the morning, occasionally in the afternoon, and even once or twice after you've left." She got a confused look on her face. "Didn't you know?"

"I…I guess I've never asked Erik if he's continued to come on his own after I'd been sick," she confessed. "I just assumed he only did so at my request…I didn't know he's kept it up."

"Oh yes, he comes by and chats with your father quite often," Susan told her. "He's even brought in a violin and played for Charles once or twice."

"Erik played for my father?" This was indeed news to Christine. As she stared at him she could only imagine what he had thought of _that!_

"I tried not to eavesdrop, but I couldn't help myself," Susan said, placing her hand over her heart and closing her eyes. "Your husband plays so beautifully."

Christine couldn't argue with her there, knowing exactly what Erik's music did to her every time she heard it.

"So, Papa," Christine said, looking at her father quizzically. "What do you and Erik talk about when he comes by?" she pressed.

"Well, as I said, I _try_ not to eavesdrop, since that would be very rude." Susan answered for him, giving her charge a slight look of embarrassment "However…sometimes, if I'm walking through, I can't help but overhear a thing or two. And from what I gather, mostly they talk about _you_. That husband of yours is amazing when it comes to the flowery speech, and from the way he goes on…well, let's just say, there's no doubt he's deeply in love with you."

"He…he _said_ that to my father?" Christine was shocked.

"Well, maybe not in so many words, after all." Here she placed her hand beside her mouth and spoke in a whisper, as if she were divulging military secrets. "After all, one needs to be careful when talking to a girl's daddy…but trust me, I can tell." Susan gave Christine a knowing wink. "Now, how about I go find us some more pudding and you two can visit." And off she went, heading out the door to locate some snack-packs.

Christine was stunned. Was it true? Did Erik really feel that way about her? Yes, she knew he enjoyed her company, valued her voice, and from the way they've been acting together, she knew he desired her physically. But love? Hadn't he said _that_ would never play a factor in their marriage?

Yet as she thought about the possibility, a warm feeling came over her, wrapping her in a blanket of hope and contentment. For a while now, Christine had been determined to at least try for an amiable friendship, allowing the two of them to cohabitate together with ease. _But love?_ Was it too much to hope for…too much to ask, especially after the less than conventional way they had begun this relationship? Still, hadn't people made successes out of arranged marriages in the not so distant past…and continued to do so in some other countries? Who said they had to follow the norm of meet, fall in love, and then get married? Perhaps they were just the type to do them out of order?

Still…no matter how much Christine wanted to believe such things were possible, that she could indeed have a life filled with love and laughter, she knew that one thing blocked her path. _Erik's secrets_. And the one that was beginning to rise above all the rest, was his mask. If he couldn't trust her to look at him, to see the real Erik behind it all, then how could she ever give him her full devotion? Yet what had he said… _she would never see him without it._ Never was a very long time, and yet, according to the contract she signed, Christine had a lot of that to spare.

Deciding that she needed to focus on something else for a while, she forced these thoughts from her mind and spoke to her father about happier things. Yet Christine couldn't help but wonder what Erik talked about when he visited. She wouldn't be foolish enough to ask, for if he wanted her to know, he would have undoubtedly told her by now, but it was still a curiosity.

So, after sharing some pudding with Susan and her father, Christine took her leave, promising to tell him all about their anniversary dinner, and how Erik liked his gift, the next time she visited. All the way back home, she ran Susan's words over and over in her mind. Did Erik love her? Was it possible that she could love him? And most importantly…was she brave enough to find out.

The rest of the evening, Christine couldn't help but sneak glances at Erik when he wasn't looking, desperate to detect any hint of what Susan had said might be true. Yet, the only thing she managed to accomplish was getting her husband to look at her with concern, and inquire if she was feeling all right. Thus she went to bed that night quite unsatisfied for answers.

.

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Erik lay there in the dark, fear eating away at his gut. Even the delicious goodnight kiss he had received from his blushing wife was not enough to settle his nerves. Why had Christine been staring at him all evening? She was unusually quiet, and that worried him. He could only conclude that she was trying to discern what was beneath his mask. Why else would someone study him so intently? Erik had truly hoped this matter would never come up, that they could indeed go on as man and wife without Christine ever seeing what lay beneath it, for that would surely ruin everything. His face, that abomination that he had been gifted with at birth, had been the bane of his existence, the one thing that kept him from living a normal life. Yet, with Christine, he had hoped that could change, that she would never demand to know what he hid from her, and that she could come to love him regardless. Was that truly so much to ask? It was starting to appear that it was.

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Friday arrived, and with it, Christine's excitement. Today was the day, and she couldn't wait to give Erik his gift. Gerald had been kind enough to have kept it at his house, but she planned on picking it up on the way home so she could wrap it in some pretty paper she had found during her day of shopping. Then she would lock herself in the kitchen and make him a fine dinner…all in hopes of surprising him.

As she kissed Erik goodbye, the novelty of the gesture in no way wearing thin, she couldn't keep the smile off her face. Today was shaping up to be a very good day, she was sure of it.

"Work hard in your classes today," Erik told her, staring down at her, wishing he didn't have to leave such a pretty sight. "I will see you when I get home tonight."

"And you have a pleasant day at work yourself," she bid him, again nearly giddy with anticipation.

"Are you sure you are all right, Christine?" he asked, again, truly perplexed by her odd behavior.

"Perfectly so," she assured him, rolling her eyes as she gave him a gentle shove towards the door. "Now, get going or you'll be late. It's bad for morale when the boss is the last one to show."

"If you say so," he huffed, still wishing he could remain with her all day. "Goodbye, Christine."

"Goodbye, Erik," she replied, waving to him from the doorway as he climbed into the Ferrari and drove away. "Boy won't _you_ be surprised when you get home, Mr. Thorn," she whispered to herself, before giving a squeak of glee and racing upstairs to get ready for school.

* * *

 **Well, the day of their first month anniversary has arrived! What will the evening hold?**

 **So, goodbye kisses have worked their way into their routine...nice.**

 **Erik had lunch with her...so sweet...and Amir does not like mustard, huh?**

 **Turns out Erik has been seeing Charles on the sly? Talking about Christine, and possibly other things? Interesting.**

 **Uh, oh...Christine is thinking more about his mask, and what he might be hiding underneath it. Watch out, Erik.**

 **And as of today I am not longer taking any more guesses for the date contest. The polls are closed. :o)  
**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **otterviolinfilm:** It says you have your PM capabilities turned off, so I can only answer you this way. I am very happy to have a new reader on board, and glad you are enjoying it. Yes, they have both come a long way since chapter one...and hopefully they will continue to grow closer as time goes by. I think they are doing pretty well for only being married less than a month. Thanks for the kind review.

 **Cayla:** I thought a case for his violin was smart too...but that begs the question...which of his violins will he put in it, ha ha. Probably the one he needs to carry someplace at the time, right? And yes, you can bet that he did not get Christine a mere rock...well, unless that rock is a precious stone or something. ha ha. Christine will indeed bust a move...or she might just break Erik's brain with her outfit and dance steps. Don't worry about Meg...I got her covered. They are getting more and more comfortable around each other...well, maybe not 'comfortable'...since Christine tends to make Erik very UN-comfortable at times, if you catch my meaning. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Guest RP:** Well thank you! Glad you enjoyed my others, but you are more than welcome to like this one the best. ha ha. Yep, you did want to slap Erik at the start, didn't you. I'm happy you see him developing into a likable guy now though. I think Erik will always be aggravating to some degree...or at least do aggravating things. He does still own that Punjab lasso you know. You know what, often I even forget about his mask while writing! Then I have to remember to stick in some mention of it. ha ha. I do enjoy this Christine as well, and wanted her to be true to life in our day and age. Raoul...well, of course he has to cause trouble...it's in his contract. ha ha. Erik will love anything Christine does, gets for him, says, thinks, etc. (even a rock from the back yard) He's just head over heels about that girl. Glad you enjoyed my Pinocchio joke. I do have fun with Amir's character, and I can sooooo see Erik having a list like that of things he wants to do as a real husband. Erik is still shy, unable to communicate his true feelings...but soon...he might grow a brain...or a spine. ha ha. Sorry to torture you and make you wait, but I still have to write more chapters. ha ha. Thanks for the awesome review! Hope to hear more from you as we go.

 **Gummy:** Yah, the only 'necklaces' you want from Erik should be the glittering kind, not of the Punjab variety. You know, Erik is very easy to please, give him a little compliment and it goes a long way to making him deliriously happy. Count yourself among a very small list of those able to make him smile. But yes...no sense in getting a swelled head over it. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Kristin:** Every time I get to write an Amir scene I get giddy, he is just so much fun. I think Erik just figures Amir is full of useless information and won't care why he knew that kind of trivia. Meg is a good catalyst for stuff as well, it is always important to have fun supporting characters to help move the story along...or say certain things...or get the main ones in trouble, etc. Yes, Raoul has been ordered to stay clear of Erik and Christine...and he did say he no longer had any interest in Christine, except as a friend, but why do you think he is lying? He looks trustworthy. And he IS an FBI agent, so it's his job to be honest...right? Isn't their motto 'Truth, Justice, and the American Way"? Oh wait...maybe that is Superman's motto. Does the FBI even have one? I just looked it up...it is "Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity". Funny how that also spells FBI. ha ha. So there you go, Raoul MUST be trustworthy if he is all those things. And sorry...once Raoul is in the game, he can't just slink off and let things be, he must uphold his motto and make a nuisance of himself. ha ha. Thanks.


	39. Chapter 39

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 **Congratulations to all who spotted another one of my stories being mentioned! The new book Susan is reading to Charles - Little Son of Durin - is the one I wrote over in the Hobbit forum.  
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 **Now...how about we go find out what Erik got Christine as a gift?**

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 **.**

 **Chapter 39**

 **~X~**

* * *

The day seemed to drag on…and on…and on, with each minute ticking by at a snail's pace. Christine was afraid she would get a crick in her neck from turning and looking at the clock so often, but at long last, her classes were over.

"So, this is the big night, huh?" Meg asked, the two meeting in the hallway as Christine headed for the door.

"Yep, and I really hope Erik will like the violin case I got him," she told her friend excitedly.

"How could he not, it's from you, isn't it?" Meg reasoned, grinning at Christine's joyful mood. "You're so lucky to have a guy who is so devoted to you, Chris," she said in a wistful tone. "Guys like that are hard to come by these days."

"Oh, please, as if you couldn't get any man you wanted, Meg," she assured her friend. "You are tall, blond, gorgeous, and you dance like a dream. I bet all you'd have to do is throw a stick and you would hit at least ten guys who would be falling all over themselves to get you to date them."

"Do you have a stick I could borrow?" Meg laughed. "I just never seem to have time for men, or at least time to go out and find one. But who knows, maybe someday I might just catch myself a winner, like you."

"Meg, I'm sure of it," Christine said, giving her friend a big hug. "But now I've got to run. Mrs. Murphy said she would come early today and get me started, but I want to finish it myself and her be long gone by the time Erik gets home…so he knows I cooked it personally."

"Won't he figure that out when he bites into a burnt piece of whatever it is you're making?" Meg teased, earning herself a playful swat from Christine.

"Some friend you are!" she laughed, giving her a wave as she headed out the door.

"Good luck!" Meg called after her, truly hoping the night went exactly like Christine had planned.

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"Alright, dear," Mrs. Murphy said, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "You have all the ingredients set out, it's up to you now. But I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"Oh, I have plenty to worry about, but I don't think the food is one of them," she laughed. "Thanks to you and your excellent instructions, Erik is in for a real treat. Now, you're sure this is one of his favorites?"

"He's requested it quite a few times over the years I've worked for him, so it's a safe bet," she assured her. "Now, I'm off. Mr. Murphy and I plan on taking advantage of me having the evening off and going to the picture show. Not sure what we'll see just yet, but we'll find something worth watching."

"Have a good time!" Christine told the kindly woman, waving to her as she headed out. " _Because I sure plan to_ ," she whispered to herself with a happy smile.

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Erik's day had also been a long one, made even more so by the idea that tonight he could give Christine his gift. He was not as practiced at giving gifts as others might be, but he was anxious to become a master at it, by showering his wife with tons of them. The clothes he had bought for her had been fun, but now he wanted to move on to bigger and better things…things less practical and more frivolous. For his Christine deserved only the best, and lots of it.

As he drove into the garage, shutting the large door behind him, he gave a bit of a frown. He hadn't noticed Mrs. Murphy's car in the drive, making him wonder if something was wrong…the older woman was always painfully punctual. That left him to wonder, should he give Christine her gift now…or wait until after Mrs. Murphy had come and gone? There were advantages to both options, so Erik decided to play it by ear, seeing how the evening went.

Yet when he stepped inside the house, all his ideas of how things might go took an abrupt turn. The place smelled wonderful! The aroma coming from the kitchen luring him in like a moth to a flame. Yet before he could take two steps, Erik was stopped by a lovely sight before him.

"Welcome home, dear," Christine said, exiting the kitchen in a very sexy tea-length blue dress, with a rather suggestive neckline. Her hair was swept to the side, the curls cascading down over her heart, and she was wearing just the right amount of makeup. Coming towards him, she lifted herself on her tiptoes and kissed his lips very softly. "And happy anniversary."

"Christine…you…you look…" Erik wasn't sure he could find words to describe the vision his eyes were feasting on, yet he knew he had to finish his sentence somehow. "You look… _amazing_."

"Thank you," Christine said shyly, suddenly a bit self-conscious in the dress she had chosen.

"And you remembered that today was our one-month anniversary?" Erik was surprised that she would have, seeing as how it might still be one of the things she would prefer to forget.

"Of course, I did," she assured him. "I know we had a bit of a rocky start, but I think we've come a long way in a month, and it's worth celebrating, don't you think?"

"Absolutely," Erik nodded, still shocked over this turn of events. And here he thought he had been the only one to recall what this day represented.

"But…" here she seemed to falter just a bit, looking down at her hands as they fidgeted together before her. She had agonized all day about how to tell Erik this…and to do so without hurting his feelings. However, the bottom line was that she was simply not yet prepared to take things to the next level. Also, since her time of the month had just begun three days ago, she couldn't have…even if she _had_ wanted to. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea, but I'm still not ready for…for…"

"I understand, Christine," Erik broke in, hating to see her looking so uncomfortable. Reaching out he tipped her chin up so that she was looking directly at him, her eyes full of worry and regret. "I promised you time, and I will not take that away from you. In fact…" Now it was Erik's turn to pause, his mind mulling over his next decision. In the end, he realized it was the right thing to do, even if it cost him a bit of physical distress. "…I hereby place the power to decide in your hands."

"You…what?" Christine wasn't sure exactly what he meant by that.

"I will not pressure you now, or even at the end of the second month, Christine," he explained. "You alone shall decide when we shall become intimate."

"Do you really mean it?" she gasped, looking up at him in shock. "But what about the contract I signed?"

"Nowhere did it stipulate a time table, that was only a verbal agreement between the two of us," he reminded her. "Thus, it can be altered at any time with both our approval, and if you have no objection…I offer you the ability to decide when."

"But…why?" she was very confused now.

"Because I…" Here Erik had to catch himself, before blurting out the one word that could easily destroy him. "Because I want you to feel comfortable Christine. To feel free to take things at your own pace, and not be pressured in any way. I only want you to be happy."

"Thank you, Erik," she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears of gratitude. "I'm quite overwhelmed by your generosity. Thank you."

"You are most welcome," he told her, brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers, once more finding her tears of joy something he could easily handle. He then lifted his head, sniffing the air as he shut his eyes in pleasure. "At first, I thought Mrs. Murphy was not here, but from the smell of things, she has quite outdone herself with dinner tonight. Beef Wellington, if I am not mistaken."

"You're correct about the dinner," Christine laughed, wiping at her eyes as her smile returned. "But you're wrong about Mrs. Murphy, she's not here."

"Oh?" Now Erik was confused. "Then who made the meal?"

"I did!" Christine said with a touch of pride in her tone. "Now come, it's all ready and waiting for you." She then grabbed his hand and pulled him into the dining room, causing him to gasp in surprise at the sight that greeted him. The table was set for two, with a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket, and candles placed all around - their merry flames creating a very romantic setting. There was even the strains of soft music in the background, all adding to the ambiance Christine had apparently wished to create.

"What is all this?" Erik was truly amazed. He suddenly recalled his little day dream, of Christine meeting him at the door with a hug and a kiss, of them sharing a dinner, before heading up to the bedroom to satisfy another type of hunger. And here, before his eyes, was at least part of that dream coming true.

"I wanted to surprise you for our anniversary," she explained. "Well, technically, it would be our month-aversary, but that just sounds odd. I asked Mrs. Murphy what your favorite meal was, and she said Beef Wellington. So that's what I made…I really hope you like it. Meg went and got me all nervous by saying I'd probably burn it, but I think it turned out rather well, if I do say so myself."

"I am certain it will be delicious," Erik told her, deeply touched that she had truly gone to all this trouble…just for him! He had never had anyone go to such lengths to please him before, and he found he rather enjoyed it. "It smells wonderful."

"I'm glad you think so," she grinned. "Now, sit, please, and I will bring it right out." And off she scurried, eager to present Erik with her wares.

Instead of sitting however, Erik busied himself by pulling the cork from the wine bottle and pouring them each a glass. He watched as Christine returned, placing the platter with the main course on the table.

"May I assist you with anything?" he offered, feeling a bit useless.

"Don't you dare," she warned in a playful tone. "This is part of my gift to you…now sit!" Christine ordered, heading back in for more.

This time Erik did take his seat, but stood up once more when she reentered the room, a wooden bowl of salad and a steaming dish of vegetables – her hand safely ensconced inside a protective oven mitt. Once they were in place, he pulled out the chair next to him and aided her in sitting, taking his own with a smile.

"You are truly a marvel, Christine," he told her, eyeing the fine feast before him. "The food smells delicious and the table looks lovely. Yet, it could never compare to _your_ beauty."

"While I thank you for the flattery, you still aren't getting anything but dinner tonight," she said, doing her best to tease him, yet her face still flushed with embarrassment.

"I told you that you have the ability to choose," he chuckled, not exactly pleased that he had no chance for intimacy, but enjoying her ability to jest with him on the subject. That in itself was a quite a feat. "And it would still have no effect on my words of praise…for they are all well deserved."

Erik reached out and picked up the carving knife and fork, deftly slicing into the Beef Wellington with skill and speed. He served Christine her piece first, then cut one for himself, all the while anxious to taste the delicious looking food. Once they both had their plates full, they began to eat. Christine watched Erik, eager to see if he really liked her cooking. He had complimented her on the lasagna she had made, but this was something special, something she had never tried before.

"Is it good?" she asked, after he had taken several bites.

"It is better than good," he informed her, savoring the rich flavor of the meal. "It is even better than Mrs. Murphy's cooking."

"Oh really?" Christine beamed with pride. "You're not just saying that to spare my feelings, are you?"

"Not at all," he assured her. "It is delicious. I would even have to say it tastes better than the very first time I ever had this dish."

"And when was that?" Christine asked, taking a sip of the wine Erik had poured.

"Oh, many, many years ago, in England," Erik answered, his eyes taking on a faraway look, as if he were recalling the past. "It was not long after I left France, and I was living hand to mouth doing odd jobs for whoever would hire me. I found a restaurant that needed some help, and for a couple of weeks I spent my evenings elbow deep in soapy suds washing dishes, sweeping and mopping, and doing any odd job they asked. One night, they had a bit of Beef Wellington left over, and as a bonus, I got to dine on this delicious meal. It was the best thing I had ever tasted up until then, and ever since, it has been a favorite of mine." Once he was finished with his story, he glanced back over at Christine, who was staring at him with hint of sadness. He suddenly felt foolish telling her this, fearing that it made him appear weak. "It is silly, really…I mean it is just food."

"No, it's not silly at all, Erik!" Christine protested. "We are all attached to something because of the fond memories surrounding it. That's the very reason I love raspberries so much. You see, when I was really little, my grandmother from my father's side, came over from Sweden to visit. One day we were at the grocery store she offered to buy me a treat. Well, I saw a little basket of raspberries and thought they looked so pretty, that I asked her to buy them. Later that day, she and I sat on the stoop outside our apartment and ate every one of them while we talked, laughed, and watched people walk by. She's since died, but every time I taste a raspberry, I can't help but think of her."

"That is a lovely story, Christine," Erik said.

"Yet no more important that yours and why you like Beef Wellington," she pointed out. "And I thank you very much for confiding in me about it."

"While I thank you very much for _making_ it for me," he told her, now happy that he had chosen to tell her the truth behind his affinity for the meal.

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They chatted throughout dinner, discussing their day's activities, and having a very nice time of it. When they were finished, Christine told Erik she had made a lovely tiramisu for dessert, but neither one felt like they had any room for it at present.

"Well then, while we let our tummies digest, how about you join me in the music room, where the festivities will continue," she suggested.

"There is more?" Erik asked in astonishment. Christine had already given him far more than he had ever expected…or deserved, by his way of thinking.

"Yes! Come with me and see," she said in an enticing voice, one that made Erik follow her eagerly. When they arrived in the music room, she instructed him to sit down and shut his eyes. And while this was never something Erik felt comfortable with, he forced himself to comply, not wishing to spoil her fun, and in turn his own. When he felt something being placed on his lap, his curiosity went up a notch or two. "All right…open them!"

Erik did as he was told, finding a large package wrapped in sparkly paper sitting on his knees.

"And what is this?" he questioned, running his hands over the gift.

"Your present, of course," she laughed. "Now, open it and find out what's inside."

Erik, still very new at receiving gifts, took his time, carefully unwrapping it as he savored every moment. When he got down to the box, he lifted the lid, only to have his breath catch in his throat.

"A…a violin case?" he whispered, not sure he could muster anything louder than that at the moment. "You…you got me a violin case?"

"Well…you're kind of a hard man to shop for, seeing as how you have just about everything else in the world," she told him with a nervous giggle. "And I thought, since my father seemed to like the one my mother got him so much…maybe you'd like one as well." She bit her lip, now appearing a bit worried. "You…you _do_ like it, don't you? I know it's not the fanciest one there was, but I wanted to buy it with my own money and it was the best I could afford."

"Christine," Erik said, reaching out and covering her fidgeting hands with his, halting her rambling. "I love it…I wouldn't want anything else in the world. And the fact that you picked it out yourself, makes it even more special. Truly…it is the best gift I could ever imagine." And Erik was serious, for the idea that she had chosen something that her mother had once gifted to her beloved father, caused a lump to form in his throat. It both touched and humbled him, a wave of utter happiness to washing over him at the thought. "Thank you, Christine. Thank you very much."

"You're welcome," she replied, now grinning from ear to ear. She had been very worried about her gift, but apparently, she had chosen well. "Amir said I should get you a sweater or a tie…but I thought those were such unimaginative gifts. I'm glad I went with this."

"As am I," he chuckled. Erik knew he would have loved _anything_ Christine had gifted him, yet _this_ held a deeper meaning. He let his hands run over the fine crafted leather exterior, before opening it to find a beautiful blue velvet lining. Yet what caught his attention was in the small plastic sleeve on the side, where you were meant to put your name and address – in case the item was ever lost – there was a handwritten note.

 _"For my husband, Erik. Here's to many more years of beautiful music together. From Christine."_

He read the words out loud, wanting to hear them with his own ears, for he could hardly believe the beautiful sentiment behind them. _Many more years_ …now that was music in itself!

"This is…is more than I ever expected, Christine," he stated, still in awe.

"Yet no less than you deserve," she insisted. "I'm happy you like it. Although, this might cause a bit of a problem when our first _year_ anniversary comes around. I will have no idea what to get you then!"

"You have already given me so much by simply agreeing to be my wife, Christine," Erik told her, his tone deadly serious. "I could never want for more."

This seemed to stun Christine, causing her to blush at his rather revealing words. But before she could muster a reply, Erik stood up and walked over to the glass case where the three violins rested. Opening the door, he set the case right next to the one he had crafted himself, standing back to admire how it looked in there. It was something he would treasure for the rest of his life. He would keep it in immaculate condition, yet even if it were to become damaged, or old from wear, he would never think of replacing it. Christine had given it to him, and that made it priceless.

Returning to the seat beside his wife, Erik reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a small slender box, holding it out to her.

"I got you something as well," he told her. "You are not the only one who remembered what day this was."

"You…you got me a gift too?" And while this surprised her, she realized that it really shouldn't. Erik was a stickler for details, and this was hardly something that would have gone unnoticed by him.

"Of course, I did," he smiled. "This is our first milestone, my dear, one of many, to be sure. I wouldn't have let such an occasion pass by without commemoration." When she seemed hesitant to take it, he urged her further. "Wouldn't you like to see what it is?"

As if his words had pulled her from a daze, she nodded eagerly, taking the small box and tearing into the wrapping, not at all bothering to be careful like Erik had been. When she got down to the black velvet box below, she paused, taking her time as she opened the hinged lid slowly. Now it was her turn to gasp in shock, finding the most gorgeous silver and ruby necklace she had ever seen.

"Oh…Erik," she breathed, her fingers touching the glittering stones delicately. "I don't know what to say. It's too beautiful for words!"

"Only when it rests upon your perfect neck will it truly be so," Erik told her, reaching out as he took the item from the box and moved to fasten it in place. Christine quickly set the box down and turned in her seat, pulling her hair to the side as he worked the little clasp. Once it was secure, she stood up and walked over to the glass case, admiring her reflection in the glass – since the only official mirror in the whole house was in her bathroom, at least that she knew of. When she was finished inspecting it, she turned back to see Erik smiling at her, obviously enjoying her delight over his gift. "And, as a bonus, it will go nicely with your costume for the ball. An event I find that I am very much looking forward to this year."

"You're going to spoil me you know," she laughed, returning to sit next to him. She could feel that her cheeks were nearly as red as the rubies.

"As is my prerogative, and my pleasure," he stated. "Yet, I believe you missed something in the box."

"Oh?" She picked up the black velvet container and quickly inspected it, thinking that perhaps there had been a pair of earrings she'd overlooked. But there was nothing to be found. "I don't see anything."

"Try removing the insert," he suggested, a wry smile on his face.

After giving him a confused glance, she did so, pulling up the little flocked cardboard piece, only to reveal a diamond studded musical note key-chain, with a rather fancy looking key attached to it.

"What's this?" Christine asked, holding it up as she inspected it curiously.

"The key to your new car," he informed her, as if this were something he said every day.

"My new…what?" she gasped. "You… _you got me a car_?"

"Well, technically it is an SUV, a white Volvo XC90 to be exact," Erik told her, enjoying the look of pure shock on her face.

"But…but…I don't even have my permit yet!" she protested, turning the key over in her hand a few times in awe.

"You will, and then you will require a vehicle to practice with, since I doubt that Amir will allow us to use _his_ any longer. And this model is by far one of the safest on the road today," he assured her. "Would you like to see it?"

"You mean now…as in it's here?" she squeaked.

"Of course," he nodded, rising to his feet and holding out his hand to her. "Care to join me?"

Christine didn't need to be asked twice, and jumping up, she allowed him to lead her outside. They walked past the large three car garage, and stopped at the door of the second smaller one. Christine had noticed it many times, but just assumed it was where the gardener kept his tools and equipment, never having bothered to inspect it herself. With the push of a button, the full-size door opened, revealing a pristine, white SUV inside.

Christine let out a wild screech, causing Erik to jerk back in shock…he had never heard his wife make _that_ noise before.

"I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT!" she squealed, racing forward as she let her hands skim across the hood and side, ending up at the driver's side door. With a quick push of the button on her key, everything unlocked, making her shriek even more. "Can I get in?"

"It is your car, Christine, you can do whatever you like," Erik laughed, loving how expressive his wife was. One never needed to guess how she was feeling.

Taking him at his word, Christine pulled on the handle and quickly slid into the driver's seat. It had that wonderful new car smell…or what she had always imagined a new car would smell like, never having had one herself. There were tons of bells and whistles and more buttons and gadgets than one might find on most airplanes.

"It's so pretty!" she said, speaking loud enough that Erik could hear her from where he stood at the front of the car. She gripped the steering wheel and tried to imagine herself driving it. "What made you pick this one?"

"Well, quite a few reasons, as a matter of fact," Erik informed her, before walking around to the other side and slipping into the passenger seat. "First of all, this vehicle has the number two safety rating, sporting an impressive ninety-seven percent adult occupant protection score."

"Only number two?" Christine found this odd, since Erik usually only went for the best.

"Well, the number one rated vehicle was the Alfa Romeo Giulia," he explained. "Which, unfortunately, are not sold in the United States, nor could I get one imported…and believe me, I tried."

Christine couldn't help but snicker a little at his rather disgruntled tone over that fact. Leave it to her detail-oriented husband to try and do the impossible just to get the very best for her.

"But this one comes in a close second, and it rates much higher in child occupant protection, as well as the safety assist category." When Christine looked at him in confusion he went on to explain. "Safety assist…as in lane-departure warning systems, seat-belt reminders, and its speed limiter, which uses a camera and digital mapping to determine the speed limit and helps you stick to it. The reviews also said that testers felt the Volvo's system was easier to set and use than the Alfa Romeo's. Over all, it is one of the most practical, relaxing and comfortable cars money can buy."

"Wow, it really sounds like you did your research," she told him, appearing truly impressed.

"I want you, and one day our child, to be protected while on the road," Erik informed her. "There are a lot of crazy people out there you know. Better safe than sorry."

"Well, thank you, Erik," she told him, leaning over and giving his cheek a quick kiss. "I really do love it. And I will work very hard to learn everything I can so I will get to drive it soon."

"You take your time, there is no rush," he assured her, unable to hide his little grin over her kiss. Her reactions to his gifts had been all he could have hoped for and more. Christine was a delight to surprise, and he thoroughly enjoyed her way of thanking him as well. "And while I realize that a vehicle is not exactly on the list of expected gifts for a first anniversary, I think I managed to tie them in quite effectively."

"What?" Christine questioned, looking at him with a confused expression. "Which gifts are considered appropriate for such an occasion?"

"According to Amir, the traditional present was paper…though I have no idea what that might entail," Erik said with a slight roll of his eyes. "While the modern day equivalent had something to do with clocks. Thus, if you will notice, your SUV does indeed have a clock on the dash." Here he pointed to the little digital display showing the time. He then opened the glove compartment and extracted the owner's manual. "And this is filled with pages and pages of _paper_ , detailing all the functions of your new ride."

"Oh, Erik, you're so funny!" she laughed, taking the book from his hand and thumbing through it.

 _Funny?_ First sweet, and now funny…Christine was certainly seeing things in him that no one else ever had, or probably ever would for that matter. Still, the thought made Erik smile.

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They spent the next hour examining every inch of her new car, from the dashboard to the spare tire and where it was located. He enjoyed Christine's enthusiasm and joy over discovering every little detail, right down to the four-zone climate control and the built in booster seat for children. Erik found it rather amusing she did all of this while still wearing her sexy cocktail dress and ruby necklace, the effect only adding to his visual enjoyment. Yet when Erik looked down at his watch, noticing the hour, he thought perhaps it was time to head in.

"If you are finished inspecting your new toy, would you like to go back inside?" he offered. "I recall you saying something about tiramisu, is that correct?"

"Oh yes!" Christine smiled, letting her fingers graze across the dashboard once more, as if telling her new car goodnight, before climbing out and locking the doors. There she lingered just a few moments more, marveling over the fact that she was now the proud owner of a car. But then her eyes grew wide and she turned to look at him, her voice betraying her feelings. "Erik! I'll need to get insurance! And lots of it!"

"Undoubtedly," Erik chuckled, recalling the incident with Amir's car and the tree. "But first you need to get your permit…then we will worry about insurance."

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Back inside the two shared their delicious dessert in the music room, talking about the car, her new necklace, and the violin case. Christine found it amusing that Amir had been off picking up her car the afternoon of the picnic, while Erik chuckled over how she had made her bodyguard follow her all over town while _she_ shopped. How that Persian put up with the two of them, he would never know.

When they were finished eating, Erik rose and crossed to the shelf that held his CD collection, pulling one out and slipping it into the player. When the soft strands of a melody began to play, he offered Christine his hand.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, smiling at her in a way that made her stomach do a little flip.

"I would be honored," she assured him, rising to her feet and allowing him to wrap her in a warm embrace.

It was a slow song, leaving them hardly moving, yet enjoying the feel of their bodies pressed closely together. A thrill ran though her at the thought that very soon they would be dancing with Erik at the charity ball…and to the tango no less. Closing her eyes and giving a happy little sigh, Christine laid her head against Erik's chest.

"This is nice," she told him, as they swayed back and forth. "A nice ending to a wonderful evening."

"Every day is wonderful now that you are here with me, Christine," Erik whispered, his cheek resting on the top of her head.

"Erik…may I ask you a question?" She wasn't sure if now was a good time for this conversation, but she truly needed to know.

"Of course you can," he agreed. "Yet, I must reserve the right to not answer if it is something that might be dangerous for you to know."

 _Oh, it was dangerous all right,_ Christine thought to herself, _but not in the way he was thinking_.

"I was wondering…when you first showed me the contract, and I asked why you chose me," she began hesitantly. "Did you really mean it when you said it was because I was merely the least objectionable woman you knew?"

Erik gave a low moan of regret, shutting his eyes in shame. Had he truly said that? Looking back, he could see all his mistakes quite clearly, and _that_ one rated at the top of the list.

"You must forgive me, Christine," Erik told her, taking her by the outside of her arms and gently pushing her away from him, so that he could look her directly in the eyes. "I was the most idiotic fool ever born to have said such a thing to you. For that was the farthest thing from the truth."

"Then…why did you say it?" came her next question.

"Because I was afraid," he admitted, finding the words quite difficult to speak. "Truth be told, you had bewitched me beyond my knowledge to comprehend, leaving me nearly obsessed with your warmth, your kindness, and your irrepressible beauty. And the fact that you could sing like an angel was simply the icing on the cake. You were everything I ever wanted in a woman and more, and I was terrified that you would turn me down…or worse, slap me with a restraining order. So I chose to act as if this was all a business deal, nothing more, so that I wouldn't overwhelm you with the truth."

"And what _is_ the truth?" she questioned, her heart in her throat.

"The truth is…" here he stopped and allowed his fingers to run up and down her cheek, loving the way it seemed to flush pink under his touch. "That I count myself the luckiest man alive to have someone as wonderful and amazing as you here within my arms. And I will spend the rest of my days making sure that you never regret saying yes to my proposal."

"Oh…" was all she could manage to say in reply, for his words and the expression in his eyes, had completely bowled her over. "That's…lovely."

"And I mean every word," he whispered, as his lips came down to meet hers, hoping that she could feel the sincerity through his kiss. This time, Erik did not hold back, instead he deepened the kiss, pulling her against his body until they were practically one person. He loved the way she seemed to melt against him, without any hesitation or reservation. Erik tentatively allowed his tongue to graze across her lower lip, as if begging for entrance, which she at last granted him, causing a surge of wild excitement to race through him. This was how he always wanted to kiss Christine, with passion and abandon, this luscious woman obviously having been created just for him. Oh, he prayed this moment would never end.

Yet, at last, the need for breath took over, and they parted, with Christine's eyes slowly opening with a dreamy look.

"Thank you again for a wonderful anniversary, my dear," he told her, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on her forehead. "I could not have dreamed of a better night." And while that was true, Erik could still think of _one_ thing that would make this truly a night to remember…yet he had given over control of that particular activity to her, and he would not take it back. "Now, it is getting rather late, and I think we should both turn in. After all, we do not want you to be too sleepy tomorrow, when we take a few laps around the driveway in your new car."

"Just as long as we stay far, far away from those trees!" Christine insisted. "I don't want my pretty new set of wheels sporting any dents, thank you very much."

"Perish the thought!" Erik laughed, taking her by the hand as they headed upstairs.

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In the restroom, Christine reached for her flannel pajamas, but halted as an idea came to her mind. It was after all their anniversary…right? So instead, she opened the little closet and began to sift through the nightclothes that Erik had originally purchased for her.

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Erik was already in bed, just having read down his list, marking off one or two more with a wide grin. When he heard the bathroom door open and close, he turned towards the sound, surprised – though pleasantly so – by the sight of his wife in a sexy black nightgown. It's formfitting cut hugging her shapely figure quite enticingly, causing him to wonder if she was truly trying to kill him.

Before Erik could manage to form any words, she crossed the room and climbed into bed beside him, yet instead of turning on her side like usual, she inched her way over and snuggled in beside him. Reaching out, she lifted his left arm up so that she could rest her head on his chest, placing her own over his midsection. Erik was frozen in place, his arm still hovering in the air above her, unsure as to what he should do with it. Yet as the moments passed and he began to relax just a bit, he slowly lowered it across her back and shoulder, loving the feel of her bare skin beneath his palm.

"Christine?" he whispered, not quite certain if he was required to do any more than this.

"Shhhh, Erik," she told him, not moving a muscle. "Just turn out the light and go to sleep."

And with a sly smile, he did just that, looking very much forward to the idea that they would both fall asleep, and wake up, in each other's arms.

It would appear that their first month anniversary had turned out to be perfect after all.

* * *

 **Ta-da! There you have it, their first month anniversary! And nothing bad happened! No explosions, no robberies, no arguments, and NO RAOUL. ha ha.**

 **So, how many of you figured it would be a car? And I am not, no have ever been, affiliated with a Volvo dealership, I simply typed "Safest car" into Google and this is what I was told. No other reason.**

 **That was pretty big of Erik to put the power in Christine's hands on when it will happen. He made some big time points there!**

 **And he sure liked his violin case, and the note she put inside it. I bet THAT will remain in there forever.**

 **I've never made Beef Wellington before...but the photo on line looked delicious!**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest RP:** Glad you liked it. Nope, Erik is just a man, not a monster...even if HE believes differently. Yes, in the original book, the Kay version and the play/movie, do have lots of different takes on Erik and his past...did he kill...did he not kill...etc. I like to make him different every time. I liked how you analyzed him...very insightful. So you like Philippe too? Good, I'm not the only one. And if I had never read the book, or the Kay version, I would have been saying "Who's this Persian they are always talking about?" ha ha. And until he can talk for himself, I guess we will be left wondering what Charles thinks of Erik. Remember, a father's love and protection of his daughter runs deep. I too hope Erik knows what he's doing...prison is not someplace he would enjoy being, especially now that he has Christine. I like your idea of him getting her a chandelier...that would be very funny. "Say you love me, or a disaster beyond your imagination will occur." ha ha. I hope you liked what he DID get her. Thanks.

 **Cayla:** I watched several tango videos too, but I imagine that Erik and Christine's will be in a class by itself. ha ha. They are becoming good friends, laughing, talking, kissing, and enjoying each other's company. Just what Erik has always wanted. You are right, after all Amir has to put up with, mustard on his chicken wrap would have been the last straw. Charles is getting better and better. Maybe soon he will be able to communicate. I hope you thought his gifts were acceptable...as if anyone wouldn't! ha ha. Thanks.


	40. Chapter 40

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 **Guest S:** Yes, ERik WAS listening to Amir...But there is no predicting the future there...Mr. Murphy might have something to say about that! And since you have almost all the chapters now finished and posted, you can just keep on reading all you want. ha ha. This is the only time I've ever heard someone happy about food poisoning...but since it got Christine more singing time, I guess it is OK. Raoul is a concern. Phil is a nice guy...let's hope that doesn't mean he finishes last. ha ha. Ahhh, yes, I know the answers to all tests everywhere, I'm just smart that way. ha ha. Erik's voice throwing thing is kind of his signature move...that and punjabbing people, but he would never do that to Christine. ha ha. Yep, her dad is getting better! Pretty soon Erik better watch out! You want Raoul to stop? Stop what? *blinks innocently* Rave away...and then keep reading. I'm good with that. Well, even your 'fake' comments made me laugh. Thanks for them all. I do appreciate them. FP33

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 **Well, Friday is here! Looking forward to getting a lot written over the weekend. I must keep ahead of you voracious readers. ha ha. Currently writing chapter 56.**

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 **Chapter 40**

 **~X~**

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Erik did indeed wake with Christine tangled in his arms, and to his delight, his little bride didn't appear the least bit uncomfortable with the idea. Once again, they had rolled onto their left sides, with her back to his front, the two of them spooning quite deliciously by his way of thinking.

"Good morning, my dear," Erik whispered as he watched her eyes flutter open, daring to place a gentle kiss on her cheek as they did.

"Good morning," she replied in turn, before snuggling against him a bit more and closing her eyes with a sigh. "Do we have to get up?"

"Not if you do not wish to," Erik told her, quite unwilling to relinquish his hold on her as well. "It is Saturday and no one expects us to be anywhere we do not want to be. Yet that leaves us with the question…what _shall_ we do today?" Erik had to admit that he had a few ideas, but he was not about to voice them.

This question had Christine rolling over, so that she was looking up into his eyes, a perplexed expression on her face.

"I don't know. What do _you_ want to do?" she asked. "I mean, before you married me, how would you have spent a typical Saturday?"

"Regrettably…alone," he informed her, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "That is why I wish to do something different…anything that pleases you, as long as we do it together."

"Well then…let me see," she reached up and tapped her chin thoughtfully. "For the past year, all _my_ free time has been spent caring for my father, so the idea of doing something for the fun of it is still a bit foreign to me as well. So, what if we start with breakfast, and then play it by ear from there. You did say I could try to drive my car around a bit…didn't you?"

"Yes, I do recall that promise," he smiled. "And how about I whip us up some Eggs Benedict for breakfast?"

"With bacon on the side?" she asked, her eyes alight with anticipation.

"Yes…of course, with bacon," he grinned, leaning down and kissing the tip of her nose. "I am fully aware that my little bear cub is a carnivore." And with that he rose from the bed with a slight laugh, heading for his restroom to change.

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Christine lay there for a bit longer, having watched him go with a smile on her face. She had been extremely nervous about her impetuous decision to not only wear the nightgown, but to sleep in such close proximity to Erik as well. It had been a bit of a gamble, running the risk of giving him the wrong idea, but true to his word, he didn't push her for more than she was willing to give. Her husband's suggestion that should they engage in more intimate activities, Christine might become more relaxed with their relationship, appeared to be working. For not once had she felt nervous or uncomfortable while resting in his arms…in fact, it had been one of the most peaceful night's sleep she could recall since their marriage. Granted, she had awoken in Erik's arms once before, but that had been due to extenuating circumstances, brought on by her frightful dream. But this time it had been _her_ decision, and she could tell it would be one she could see herself making more often.

Leaping out of bed with a wide grin on her face, she scurried to get showered and dressed as well. A full day with Erik sounded wonderful, and no matter what they did, she knew she would enjoy it.

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After breakfast, they headed outside for a little driving lesson, and this time, Erik took Amir's advice and assumed the role of an actual teacher…not a lenient husband. He truly took the time to both instruct and demonstrate everything to her, leaving nothing out or anything to chance. He was worried at first that she might balk at his form of education, yet to his surprise she paid rapt attention and didn't get upset at all. In fact, she seemed to blossom under his tutelage, and soon Christine was maneuvering her car up and down the driveway, and around the circle, with both skill and ease. Of course, Erik was not about to tell Amir that he had been correct, oh, no, _that_ would never happen.

Once they were finished with that, Christine asked him to take her for a walk out back, for other than the one time she had gone out by herself – which had led to a very heated argument - she hadn't had time to fully explore the extent of the property. The weather was perfect for a stroll, and the two of them did so, hand in hand, much to Erik's immense pleasure. He showed her the boundaries of the grounds, all the way to a small crop of trees that apparently hid any neighbors from view. When she remarked that the place resembled a golf course, Erik stopped and gave the idea some thought.

"I could have one or two holes set up if you would care to learn the game," he offered.

"Would I get to wear a polo shirt, shorts, and argyle socks?" she laughed. "Oh, and a snappy little white sun visor too?"

"Only if you wish to," he chuckled. "You could come out here in a ball gown and high heels for all I care…though I fear that such footwear might cause you to sink into the ground and become stuck."

"Probably right," she nodded in mock seriousness. "Perhaps, golf is not the game for me."

"Do you have a preferred game?" he asked, never having taken her for the sports type.

"Well…I didn't really participate much in the way of athletic activities in school, concentrating mostly on my music lessons," she mused, thinking back to her younger days. "And growing up in the city didn't offer much room to run around. So I would say that my 'game' would have to be…chess."

"You play chess?" Erik's tone was now one of excitement. "I did not know that about you."

"Well, it's been over a year since I played," she said with a modest shrug of her shoulders. "And I'm probably a bit rusty, but my father and I used to have chess marathons, often lasting days before one of us finally beat the other."

"Interesting," Erik hummed, eyeing her keenly. "Might you wish to renew your acquaintance with the sport of kings?"

"Against you?" she questioned, looking up at him innocently.

"Of course me," he huffed. "Who did you think I meant…Amir?"

"I don't know, is _he_ a good player?" she teased.

"Not at all. A child could beat him in five minutes," Erik said with a look of exasperation. "So…shall we return to the house and try a game or two?"

"Sounds lovely," she grinned, not giving away her own eagerness to test herself against his skills.

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An hour later, Erik sat staring at the half a dozen pieces remaining on the board. Astonishingly, and much to his displeasure, most of them belonged to Christine! He had begun the game generously, not taking moves he could have, thinking he might be sparing her feelings. But all too soon he realized that there had been no need to baby her…for his wife was ruthless.

"It's your move, dear," Christine said in a tone so icky sweet that Erik was not sure how her teeth didn't rot from the mere sound.

"I am fully aware of that," he grumbled, continuing to glare at the board.

"Will you be moving any of your pieces soon?" she pressed, apparently unaware of his foul mood over her imminent victory. "Mrs. Murphy will arrive in a few more hours, and it would be a shame to miss out on dinner over this."

"I will make my move when I am good and ready," he informed her.

"Ooooo, someone is grumpy," she giggled. "Are you by any chance a sore loser?"

"I would not know," he told her in an icy tone. "I have never lost before."

"Well then, I am honored to be your first," she grinned back, leaning forward and placing her elbows on her knees, her chin on her knuckles, and batted her eyes at him quite teasingly.

Erik was not sure if he was angry, entertained, or simply frustrated by her obvious enjoyment over all this. He had thought he would toy with her for a bit and then swoop in and win the game, graciously telling her that she had done admirably…but that ship had sailed quite a bit ago.

"There," he huffed, reaching out and moving his knight. He felt rather satisfied by his choice…until Christine casually reached out, slid her queen three spaces to the left.

"Checkmate," she announced, sitting back with a wide grin on her face.

Erik examined the board, his eyes wide with shock, realizing that she was correct. _He had lost._ Christine had beat him in chess…something that no one had ever been able to do since he had originally learned the game. How had _this_ happened?

"Well…the match was unfair," he claimed, immediately returning the pieces to the velvet lined box where he kept them.

"Unfair?" she balked. "How so? I didn't cheat!"

"No, but you distracted me!" he accused.

"How?" Christine pressed, spreading out her arms as if demanding he make his case.

"By looking so beautiful, and flashing that captivating smile at me," he told her, his tone now turning playful. He truly was impressed by his wife's abilities…oh, he did love every inch of her, including her amazing mind.

"I…" Christine found she had no rebuttal to that, while also feeling her cheeks redden with embarrassment. "Well…I still won!"

"That you did," Erik conceded. "Yet next time, I will be ready for you."

"Promises, promises," she taunted.

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Since dinner would not be for several hours, Erik took Christine to Leathwood, to visit with her father, seeing as how she told him she had missed doing so the day before. They had just taken their seats inside Charles' room and began to speak when suddenly Christine froze…staring at her father with a shocked expression.

"Papa…did you just move your eyes?" she gasped, reaching out and grabbing Erik by the hand in excitement. Standing up, Christine walked a few steps to the left. When Charles' gaze did indeed follow her as she went, she began to squeal with joy. "THEY DID! They followed me!"

"I will go find a doctor," Erik insisted, vacating his chair and striding out the door.

Christine hugged her father, beyond thrilled to see yet another sign of his improvement. Taking his hand in hers she knelt beside him, looking up into his eyes.

"Move your fingers for me, Papa," she urged. "If you understand what a big thrill this is for me, please move your fingers."

When she felt the slight movement just as she requested, her smile grew so bright it could have lit up the room.

"Oh, Papa!" she cried, cupping his face with the palms of her hands. "You're going to get better, I just know it. First your fingers, now your eyes, soon you will be walking and talking and everything once more! You don't know how happy this makes me…so utterly happy!"

Just then, Erik returned with one of the doctors Christine had met when they had hooked her father up to test his motor functions the other day. After a quick exam, where he too noted the way Charles followed his movements with his eyes, he stood up and gave them all a very wide smile.

"It would appear that your father has indeed reached another milestone," he announced. "He is making remarkable progress, and through no small effort of his own. I will be sure to notify Dr. Mills the moment he arrives on Monday. And perhaps by next week sometime, we can attempt to attach a movement detector to the arms of his wheelchair, and see if he can respond to yes or no questions."

"Oh, I can't wait!" Christine said, obviously more than excited about the prospect.

"I will allow you to resume your visit, but congratulations to you all," the kindly doctor stated, giving Charles a reassuring pat on his shoulder. "Keep up the good work, Mr. Daaé, your progress is most encouraging."

.

.

Once he had left, Christine couldn't remain quiet, talking nonstop about this and that, and all the things they would do once he was better. Erik sat there and smiled at her enthusiasm, knowing that every bit of the money he was spending on her father's recovery was well worth it, just to see Christine so happy.

Still, he did worry a bit about what Charles might have to say once he could communicate once again. Erik had kept up his visits to Leathwood, continuing to confess more about his feelings for Christine to the silent man. He now wondered if that had been such a wise idea, for while he had been unable to respond back, Erik had felt free to confess many of his secrets…but now, things were about to change. More than once, while Christine had been describing something, her attention pulled from her father's face, Erik had noticed Charles staring directly at _him_. It was unnerving to think what might be going on in the older man's mind. Erik only hoped that his relationship with Christine was strong enough to withstand the possibility of her father's disapproval. He knew she wouldn't run, or try to sue for divorce, but Erik feared losing the tentative affection he felt they had built up thus far. It would pain him deeply if that were to happen.

.

.

The rest of the evening Christine was walking on clouds, not once noticing that Erik seemed a bit subdued…and for this he was glad. The last thing he wanted to do was dampen her spirits, or cause her to worry. This had been a wonderful day and he wanted it to end on a good note. So, when it was time for bed, he did his best not to act as if he were anticipating anything, such as the intimate way she had chosen to snuggle up with him the previous night. But when she emerged from her bathroom in another one of the silky nightgowns he had purchased for her, Erik's heart once more skipped a beat.

"Has something happened to your flannel sleepwear?" he asked, not quite sure how to broach the subject.

"No…it's just become a bit warmer lately," she shrugged, pulling back the covers as she climbed inside. _At least things have been heating up a bit for her,_ Christine chuckled to herself. "Summer will be on us before we know it, so I figured these would offer a bit more comfort than my warm fuzzies."

"I see," he nodded, not at all displeased by her statement, though he had kind of hoped she might say she was wearing them solely for him.

"Do you mind me wearing these?" she questioned, looking over at him in confusion.

"NO! Not at all," he nearly barked out, eager to assure her that he wasn't. "As I said, you are free to wear anything you wish. I may have purchased some clothes for you, but it is ultimately your choice as to which ones you prefer."

"Good to know," she grinned, once more sliding over and moving his arm so that she might snuggle up against him. "And…do you mind me doing this?" Christine questioned, already willing to guess his answer.

"I think you are well aware that I do not," he chuckled, allowing his hand to rest gently on her waist. "This is very nice…very nice indeed."

"I agree," she nodded, the movement causing some delicious friction where her head rested on his chest. "And thank you again for giving me the ability to say when, Erik. I really appreciate that."

"You have to know I would never have forced you into anything you were not completely ready for, my dear, no matter what we had initially agreed upon," he assured her. "I fear that I might have come across a bit…well, dictatorial that day in my office. But after your little jack-rabbit reaction to my original proposal, I was quite fearful that you might turn me down _again_. I apologize for my less than honest and inconsiderate offer."

"Well…I will admit, I was a bit accusatory and harsh when I stormed out the first time," she said with a sheepish grin. "And for that I too apologize."

"I require no such thing from you, Christine, for you did nothing wrong," he informed her. "You spoke your mind, stood up for yourself, and for that I admire you greatly."

"Well, I still regret some of the things I said," she assured him. "However, I must admit, your reaction _was_ priceless. Not to mention the looks on Antoinette and Elizabeth's faces!"

"Oh, I am sure it was a sight to see," Erik laughed, at last able to appreciate a bit of humor in it all...especially since he was currently holding Christine in his arms. "Now, I think it's time we get some sleep, you have another busy day ahead of you."

"I do?" she questioned, raising her head to look him in the eye. "Doing what?"

"Getting your lovely little backside beat in a game of chess," he laughed.

"You know, with such a cocky attitude as that, I'm not sure you deserve a kiss goodnight," Christine informed him, turning up her nose at his boastful statement.

"I did say it was a _lovely_ backside," he pointed out. "Does that not at least win me a little kiss?"

"Well…since you put it _that_ way. But only a little one," Christine giggled, leaning in to place a light kiss on his lips, yet before she could pull away, Erik's hand snaked around the back of her head and pulled her in for something a bit more intimate. She gave a little squeak, but it quickly morphed into a hum of pleasure. When they parted at last, her eyes were soft and dreamy.

"You know, I was planning on going easy on you tomorrow," she told him, not sounding angry in the least. "But for that little stunt, it will be no mercy. None at all!" she warned, before lying her head down and wrapping her left arm over his middle.

"I look forward to the challenge, my dear," he grinned, reaching out to turn off the light.

Oh, yes…Erik could so easily get used to this.

.

.

The next day did consist of several games of chess, and once Amir had heard of the battle of wits going on in the main house, he had come over to observe. Having been a victim of Erik's strategic mind more than once, it fascinated the Persian to see his usually unflappable friend needing to expend so much effort in order to outthink his wife. They were already embroiled in their second game, so Amir bet a hundred dollars that Christine could best Erik two out of three.

"I'll take that bet," Erik grinned proudly, having managed to win the first game…though not as easily as he had hoped. Unfortunately, he failed to outwit her on game two, causing Amir to grin wickedly, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of collecting his winnings.

"All right, Christine," Amir said, giving her an encouraging look. "Wipe the floor with him on this one and win me my money!"

"Where, might I inquire, is your loyalty, you traitorous Persian?" Erik accused, setting up the pieces once again.

"Are you kidding?" Amir laughed. "Loyalty has nothing to do with this. I'm just amazed and delighted that there's someone who can take you down a peg or two…even if it's only in a game of chess." He then gave Christine a sly wink. "Don't let me down, now."

Christine only rolled her eyes at the two males' antics, wondering if this ongoing competition they shared had quite gotten out of control. On one hand, she was not the sort who liked to lose…but she hated to see Erik humiliated either. If it were just the two of them, she wouldn't hesitate, but with an audience, well that was another story. They had both won a game so far, and ending with a tie might be the best way to keep things on friendly terms. Thus, after nearly thirty minutes of intense play, Christine sneezed, her hand _accidentally_ striking the corner of the board as she quickly brought it up to her mouth, causing the pieces to fly in every direction.

"Oh…I'm so sorry!" she gasped, doing her best to sound honestly dismayed.

"No! You were winning!" Amir moaned in disappointment. "I demand a rematch!"

"I don't know," she said with a sigh. "I'm rather tired of chess right now. Maybe later."

Amir looked at her, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "You did that on purpose!" he accused.

"Who…me?" she asked innocently. "You think I would do such a thing?"

"Yes!" he griped.

"Amir, I would strongly advise against calling my wife a liar and a cheat, if I were you," Erik warned, reaching out to right the board. "And if you only intend to irritate me further, you might as well go home."

"Fine, since it looks like the two of you are in cahoots to stiff me anyway," he grumbled, standing up and heading out the back door. "And here I thought we were friends, Christine."

"See you tomorrow," she called back, grinning from ear to ear. Once he was gone, she couldn't help but let out the laughter she'd been holding in. "Oh, that poor man…so close to victory, only to have it snatched away from him."

"And exactly who says he would have been victorious?" Erik asked, giving her a confused look.

"I do…I _was_ winning, you know," she informed him smugly.

"I know of no such thing," he argued. "I was simply lulling you into a false sense of security."

"Were you now?" she inquired, her eyebrow raised in a skeptical expression. "Care to put your money where your mouth is?"

"Playing you for money would be pointless, since everything I own is yours already," he pointed out.

"All right. One more game, but this time the winner not only gets bragging rights…but a foot rub as well," she suggested.

"Now those are stakes I don't mind gambling with," he agreed, as they both searched the room for the scattered pieces.

Erik was now in a quandary…for it he lost, he would have the pleasure of touching her feet, as he rubbed each and every toe to her satisfaction. Yet, if _he_ won…she would be doing the same to him, thus making it a win/win situation in his mind. Oh, he really needed to make more bets with Christine!

.

.

An hour and a half later, Christine lay on the sofa in the entertainment room, her bare feet propped up on Erik's knees as he massaged the lotion into her skin with slow, methodical strokes.

"That feels wonderful," she hummed in pleasure.

Christine's eyes were closed, so she didn't see the proud smile that flashed across his lips. Erik had always been rather good with his hands, be it with music, self-defense, or other more _intimate_ activities. And as he heard the soft murmurs coming from his wife's lips, it made him want to let his fingers slip further up her legs…and beyond. And yet, because of his promise, he refrained…keeping his ministrations confined to her delicate feet as directed. Still, a man could dream, couldn't he?

"Tell me honestly, Christine," Erik asked, several minutes into his delightful task. "You knocked the game board over on purpose, didn't you?"

"Well…yes," she nodded, opening one eye to look at him, doing her best to ascertain if he was angry.

"Why?" he pressed.

"I didn't want to make you look bad in front of Amir…or lose the bet," she confessed.

"And yet you had no qualms about taking my king in order to win a foot rub?" he was a bit confused by her way of thinking.

"That's different," she insisted, now opening both eyes to look at him. "Amir would have lorded it over you for days…weeks even. And I couldn't play a part in that. I would have felt terrible."

"So…you did not wish for me to be the subject of the Persian's ridicule?" he questioned, doing his best to understand her reasoning.

"Of course not," she stated, acting as if such a thing would be obvious.

Erik was stunned. No one had ever attempted to protect him from scorn before…other than Amir, but that was different. Even at the tender age of four he had learned the importance of fashioning a crude mask from one of his pillowcases, in order to avoid the constant mockery from the other children in the orphanage. Even some of the caretakers would give him a look of disgust, or even a painful slap should they find him without his facial covering…if they dared to interact with him at all. This taught him the hard lesson that no one was on his side, no one was there to protect him…and no one had ever showed him otherwise.

Yet, here was Christine, his precious wife, willing to throw a chess match in order to spare him a few gloating words from Amir, whom he knew truly meant no harm by them. Still, the fact that she wished to protect him from such things not only warmed his heart, but gave him hope. Could she one day be brave enough to look upon his face…and not scream, cry, or run away? The idea was nearly laughable, but for the first time since he had met her…Erik was actually considering the possibility. Oh, it wouldn't be any time soon, that was for sure, but maybe…one day…there was a chance.

"That…was very considerate of you, Christine," he told her, unable to hide the slight catch in his voice. "You have my thanks."

"How about you keep your thanks, and just get to rubbing, Mister," she teased, her little joke breaking the obvious tension that had filled the room. "I'm not letting you weasel out of my well-earned foot rub, you know."

"Yes, Ma'am," Erik laughed, loving how she could alter his emotions with only a smile. Christine was truly something else.

* * *

 **Free foot-rubs from Erik to everyone who sends in a review!**

 **So, they spent a very nice weekend together, talking, visiting her dad, and playing chess. Who knew she was a master at the game? She can't drive worth beans, but she can take Erik's king! ha ha.**

 **Well, her dad is now able to move his eyes, and Amir is grumpy he didn't win money from Erik. Oh well, there will always be a next time.**

 **Hope you enjoyed your last fluffy chapter...before the DRAMA returns! ha ha.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Thorpendipity:** Of course I am happy to respond, but since you signed in as a guest, THIS is the only way I can do so. Wow, all 39 chapters in one day? I hope you took time to eat and rest! Sorry I can only give you more chapters three times a week. I post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. And look...you got a new chapter today! So glad you like my characters and feel they are consistent and have good development. No fast relationship here, ha ha. I have good beta readers, and I thank them very much for their support in making me look good with spelling and grammar. ha ha. Erik was a bit heavy handed at the start, but only because he was afraid Christine would turn him down. But he loves and respects her very much, and it will continue to show and grow as the story goes on. Yes, Erik is more protective than possessive. He wants her to have friends, and go shopping, and do things she likes, he just wants to know she's safe while doing it. Amir is indeed the only one who can tell Erik the plain hard truth and not get killed for doing so. We like him a lot! I just giggled myself silly over the idea of Erik playing guitar hero. ha ha. Nope, Christine is NOT going to fall for Raoul in any way, shape, or form. But he's still going to be an issue. I am currently writing chapter 56, and I don't see this being over for at least another ten to twenty chapters...but who knows with me, I just can't write short stories! And even if Fili begs me to come back to Erebor, I will stay here with Erik until he gets his happily ever after! I promise. Thanks for ALL your kind words and I hope to hear from you again. FP33

 **PG4044:** Glad you are enjoying it and I look forward to more reviews from you, thanks! You know, I might never think of anything better for them to give each other on their first real anniversary! Will he buy her an island? ha ha. Hmmmm, I wouldn't put it past him! Thanks for the kind review.

 **GuestRP:** Yep, cloud nine just won't cut it this time. ha ha. Oh...yes, a diamond encrusted chandelier...Perfect! Erik did do a fine job expressing himself...but he still needs to say the L word! Thanks

 **Guest:** Was it so sweet that it gave you cavities? ha ha. Meg did say that a good man was hard to find and she wanted what Christine has...hmmm... Wow, Meg has a great pair of legs! Strong too! Poor Raoul. Thanks

 **Guest:** I live for the Awwwwww moments! So thanks.

 **Guest:** I'm glad you loved it. And sweet is better than salty. ha ha. Thanks

 **Cayla:** It was a night to remember, and one Erik will never forget. They both worked very hard to make it perfect, and I think they both deserve an A for effort. They both put a lot of thought in to the gifts too. Ha ha, I can't say I'm a car person, and I wouldn't know a Volvo SUV unless it ran me over - which is possible if I'm dressed like a tree and Christine is driving, ha ha. But like I said, I looked it up on line and went with what they said. Erik giving her the chance to decide was indeed a grand gift, and since he is bound to be frustrated by that, it is the gift that keep giving, ha ha. He does indeed LOVE her...and soon I think she will figure that out. Thanks.


	41. Chapter 41

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 **A week of drama, big reveals, and frustration heading your way!**

 **I do hope you enjoy the ride.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 41**

 **~X~**

* * *

Monday came, and with it another day of musical magic at Juilliard, causing Christine to realize just how much she was going to miss her classes during the summer break. Granted, she would not have to do without singing, since Erik had promised to practice with her every night if she so desired, in order to keep her voice in tune. Yet it was the camaraderie of her peers she felt she would miss the most, not that she was very good friends with many, except Meg, but just being around others of a like mind had been nice.

As planned, she met with her ballerina friend in the practice room that afternoon, hardly getting a word in before Meg began to grill her about their anniversary dinner.

"So…how did it go?" she asked, grabbing Christine by the arm and dragging her over to the bench. "Did he love your gift? Did you burn the dinner?"

"No, I did not burn the dinner!" Christine laughed. "And yes, Erik loved the violin case. I truly think he was surprised by it all."

"Awesome! Glad to hear it," Meg nodded.

"And he got me something too," she added, causing Meg's eyes to grow wide with excitement.

"WHAT? Oh, was it diamonds? Pearls? A puppy?" came her rapid fire questions.

"No, none of the above," Christine told her in an amused tone. "It was a ruby necklace, like the kind you see in the windows at Tiffany's! It's to die for, trust me!"

Meg let out a long squeal, showing her delight over her friend's words.

"And…a new car!" Christine added quickly.

"A WHAT?" Meg was floored. "He got you a car too? Oh, you lucky duck! What's it like…is it sleek and sporty? Tell me, tell me!"

Christine went on to describe it in great detail, loving how her friend was hanging on her every word. When she was finished telling her all about it, and the events of the evening, Meg looked wrung out.

"Oh…I can't believe it, Christine, you are living in a fairy tale for sure!" the dancer said with a sigh of happiness.

"I am kind of feeling a bit like a storybook character," she nodded. "I was stunned by the necklace, but the car…Erik is far too generous with me. I wish I could give him as much as he gives me."

"Men like to spoil their women…or so I've heard," she laughed. "Still…I think he's getting a pretty good hand dealt to him as well. You're quite the catch, Chris." She then stood up and grabbed her friend by the hand. "Now, I see you brought your costume with you, so go change into it so I can get a good look. If you want to repay that man of yours for all his lavish gifts, I say your sexy dance is the best place to start."

.

.

Christine hurried into the dressing room and slipped on the dress. It was a bit risqué, but at least it wasn't indecent, and perhaps in a nice pair of fishnet nylons, she might actually feel rather comfortable in it. Which was good, since dancing in a long dress proved to be much more difficult than doing so in jeans or a loose skirt. More than once she had to apologize to Meg for tripping over her hem and nearly knocking her down.

"You're doing really well, honest," her friend insisted, after hearing Christine give another sigh of defeat. "You've got the moves down, you just have to work on executing them in your costume. Also, you need to move more swiftly and stop being so hesitant. You're not supposed to let your partner push you around like a wet mop, but snap to attention, twirl with purpose, and when he pulls you back to him, lock your arm like this." She demonstrated once again, her hand and elbow like an unmovable wall.

"Oh, sure, easy for _you_ to say," Christine laughed, looking down at her skirt. "However, at least a bit of hemming should help with the tripping part at least."

"Fear not, you'll have it down in no time. And if you don't end up being the bell of the ball, then my name's not Megan Bernice Giry!" she stated.

 _"Bernice?"_ Christine questioned, never having thought to ask what her friend's middle name was.

"That's right, and if I'm willing to tell you that, then you have to believe I always tell the truth…you _will_ dance the tango like a pro!" Meg swore, lifting her fisted hand into the air in a sign of conviction.

"Fine, fine, I believe you," Christine laughed. "But seriously, until I can stop _this_ thing from dragging…this thing," she pointed at herself and then her feet, "Does not happen!"

"All right, you are given a reprieve for now," Meg said with a roll of her eyes. "Come sit with me and have a drink of water before you go change, I want to talk to you about something."

"Oh?" Christine was suddenly a bit concerned, for Meg was never one to be serious…unless there was something wrong. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes…I mean I guess so," she nodded, as the two sat down on the bench along the wall. Meg reached into her bag and pulled out two bottles of water, handing one to Christine. "I wanted to tell you that…well, my mother and I had a long talk last night, and it appears I have you to thank for it."

"What about?" Christine could almost guess, but she was not about to give anything away before it was confirmed.

"About my father, and what happened to him," she revealed. "I can't really say I have that many memories of him, for even though I was nearly a teen when he disappeared, he was not exactly the kind of father that was ever around. It always felt like it was just mother and I…and he was simply someone who was there now and then. Not saying I didn't like him, but he was just so…distant."

"I'm sorry, Meg," Christine told her, leaning closer as she put her arm around the ballerina. "I don't know what I would have done without my Papa as I was growing up…but I do envy you that you had a mother."

"And now that I know all the crap she put up with, I have to say, I've got a new level of respect for her," Meg admitted, shaking her head in shock. "I mean, first there was the gambling, then the near poverty we were forced to live in…but to actually expect Mother to get him out of debt by sleeping with some jerk-face? What kind of monster was he?"

"It sounds like he was a very sick man," Christine said, feeling very generous with her description of the creep. "He needed help, but refused to get it. Of course that's no excuse, but from what Antoinette told me, he loved you both at one time. That's the part you need to hold on to."

"I know…and maybe in time I can find a way to forgive him, but right now I just want to rip his head off and spit in his neck!" Meg even made a twisting motion with her hands, demonstrating her anger for the man who sired her.

"And if you need me to, I'll be right there to help you!" Christine told her friend supportively.

"I thank you for the offer, but maybe I should just ask you to share a dance with him…that alone would be punishment enough," Meg teased, leaning away as Christine reached out to swat her friend.

"You said I was doing good!" she huffed.

"And you are, I was only joking, honest," Meg insisted.

"I don't know if I should trust you or not," Christine hummed, eyeing Meg suspiciously. "Maybe you're just feeding me a line, and I'll go out there and make an utter fool of myself."

"No way! My reputation as a dance instructor is on the line!" Meg said in horror. "I wouldn't let you go out unprepared…not on your life."

"All right then," Christine laughed. "But just remember this…if I go down, I'm taking you and your reputation with me."

"Fair enough," Meg chuckled, the two girls shaking hands.

.

.

That night, as Erik worked on some papers from the office, Christine sat in a cozy chair and took the hem up a few inches on her costume. It wasn't too difficult, and even with her limited skills she soon had it well in hand. She caught Erik watching her a few times, causing her to feel rather self-conscious. Finally she set her needle and thread down and stared back.

"What?" she demanded, chuckling at his almost awestruck expression.

"You just look so…domestic doing that," he explained. "It is rather becoming on you."

"Thank you?" she said, not quite sure how to take it.

"It was the highest praise, I assure you," Erik continued. "I am not saying that I wish to see you barefoot and pregnant slaving away in the kitchen or anything." Here he stopped and got a faraway look in his eyes, as if he were suddenly contemplating that idea and liking it very much.

" _Erik…"_ she said in a warning tone, snapping him out of his reverie.

"Forgive me," he stated, looking a bit embarrassed by his momentary lapse. "As I was saying, I do not expect you to do such things or play the part of a typical housewife…but you cannot fault me for finding the vision a pleasant one."

"And you wouldn't find me odd if the thought of you, in say, a wheat field with a sickle in your hands, shirtless and sweaty, was a turn on?" she asked, an eyebrow raised in an irritated manner. She was not quite sure why that visual came to mind…other than having once seen a hot actor on TV doing the same thing on a BBC program.

"You…you would find _that_ …attractive?" Erik stammered, shock and surprise flashing in his eyes. He suddenly wondered where he might purchase a sickle and a wheat field!

"Well, it's not so different than your idea of me as a housewife on the prairie," she reasoned, yet her face grew a bit red as she suddenly began to visualize Erik shirtless and covered in a sheen of sweat from a hard day's labor.

"I did not say you would be on a prairie…just…well…" Here he had to stop, for Erik honestly had no idea how to proceed without digging himself further in trouble.

"Oh, Erik, I'm only teasing you," she began to laugh, her previous look of irritation melting into one of pure delight. "You are just too easy to fluster, and I can't help myself."

"Ahhh, you _are_ a wicked woman, Christine Thorn," Erik huffed, turning back to his paperwork, though unable to hide the little grin that pulled at his lips.

"Yep…and one that can beat the pants off of you in chess," she gloated, picking up her sewing once more. Unfortunately, this led to a new visual springing to her mind…of Erik with no pants on…causing Christine to lose her concentration and prick her finger on the needle.

"Ouch!" she whispered, sticking her injured digit in her mouth in an effort to alleviate the pain. _Serves you right for daydreaming about your own husband,_ she scolded herself.

.

.

The next few days passed much as before, with Christine attending school, Erik going to work, and Amir following her around like usual. She began to wonder what he did to while away the hours, other than remaining vigilant, as she went about her day in class. Maybe he had a ton of games on his phone?

The nights however seemed to be a favorite for both Erik and Christine, as she continued to sleep within his arms. For him it was both a pleasure and a torture, for he had to work harder each time to control his longings where Christine was concerned. Erik had even been forced to resume his daily workouts, something he had been rather lax about over the past four weeks - heading down whenever possible to the private gym he had created in a corner of his thirteenth floor apartment. Yet, even the strenuous exercise did little to banish the pent up energy brought on by his delectable wife… still, it was better than those blasted cold showers.

Little did Erik know that his delicate bride was also starting to feel the very same desires…and where they had once frightened Christine, they now only caused excitement. Was she truly ready to let go and give herself over to the passion her husband appeared to awaken within her? In her mind…it was beginning to seem that way.

.

.

So far, Christine had been able to keep the fact that she had been spending time with Meg after class a secret from Erik. However, on Wednesday she had decided that she would skip her lessons with Meg and attempt something else she hoped she was ready for. Going to the DMV to get her permit! Christine didn't want to tell Erik about this, for fear that if she went and failed, he would be disappointed. She figured that Gerald could drive her there after class, and hopefully the lines wouldn't be _too_ long, allowing her to get in and out before Erik even knew she had gone. Yet at breakfast, her husband made an announcement that might ruin it all.

"I will be riding with you to Juilliard this morning, my dear," he told her as he glanced at the newspaper in his hand. "I am in need of the limo today, as well as Gerald. Yet do not fret, we will be back in time to get you when you are finished with your classes."

"You…you will?" Christine just about choked on her orange juice, causing a concerned Erik to lay down his paper and pat her on the back.

"Is there something wrong with that?" he inquired, concerned over her little episode.

"No…not at all…it's just that…" she grabbed her drink once more and took a few gulps, stalling for time as she desperately thought of something to say. Christine didn't want to lie though. "I…I've been staying a few hours afterwards helping Meg with something. Would you mind coming a bit later, like around five? Or will that mess up your plans?"

"No, not at all," Erik nodded, apparently unconcerned by the altering of his schedule. "Two hours later will not be a problem."

"Perfect," she grinned, going back to her breakfast as she tried to hide her little smile. She now only hoped that Amir would be willing to drive her there and back again, without feeling the need to tattle on her to Erik. Maybe another sweet tasting coffee would butter him up?

.

.

Later that afternoon, when Christine had finished her final class, she found Meg and related her plans. The young blond was extremely excited for her, saying that she wanted to be one of the first to get a ride in her new car when she was street-legal.

"I promise! You and I will take a spin around town, just as soon as I feel confident enough," Christine assured her, waving goodbye as she headed for the commissary.

After getting Amir a mocha flavored bribe, she hurried out to the commons area, easily locating him on his usual bench.

"And what is this for?" the Persian asked, eyeing the cup in her hand, and the wide smile on her face, suspiciously.

"I'm hoping to entice you to do me a favor…one I don't want Erik to know about," she added, holding out the cup in anticipation.

"Hmmmm, let me hear what it is before I say yes," he said, doubt lacing his words.

"I want you to drive me to the DMV to take the test for my permit," she explained. "I'd like to keep it a secret from Erik, just in case I don't pass. And if I do get my permit, it will be a big surprise! So, will you do it?"

Amir considered it for a moment, then reached out, taking the coffee from her as he stood up.

"What are we waiting for?" he asked with a wide grin.

.

.

Erik's day had been very busy, first with schlepping clients around to look at a few of the new properties he had just acquired, and then back to his office for a long conference call that had left him with a headache. He had just hung up the phone, thinking he might slip out now before anyone else demanded his attention, when there came a buzz, alerting him to the fact that Elizabeth was calling him. With a heavy sigh, he reached over and answered it.

"Yes?" he responded.

"I have someone here to see you, Mr. Thorn," the often far-too-perky receptionist informed him.

"I have no one else on the books today," he argued, irritated by the idea that someone would simply walk in and expect to be seen. He was a busy man, he didn't have time for such nonsense! "Tell them to make an appointment and come back another day."

"I…I really think you should see this person, Sir," Elizabeth said in a slightly nervous tone. "They…they are very insistent that they be seen right away."

"Oh, they are, are they?" Erik growled, hitting the button on the phone to end the conversation. Standing up, he stormed towards his office door, ready to give whomever it was a very displeased piece of his mind…and perhaps a right hook to the jaw if they continued to annoy him. Yet, as he yanked the door open, all his words froze on his lips. For there was Christine, standing on the other side, holding up a little slip of paper and grinning from ear to ear.

"LOOK!" she squealed, waving it at him as she practically bounced up and down. "I got my permit! I can drive now! Well, as long as I have a person with a valid New York driver's license seated next to me, but I got it!"

"You did?" Erik was shocked, not by the fact that she was able to pass, but that she had gone to get it without telling him. "When?"

"Just this afternoon! And I passed with flying colors, I only missed one, and I think it was a trick question anyway," she grumbled. "I asked Amir to take me, I wanted to surprise you with it if I passed. And I did! So…surprise!"

"While I am hardly surprised you did so well, I am amazed that you decided to go today," he laughed. "You can be rather sneaky when you want to be." He then looked over at Amir, who was standing nearby with a wide grin. "And you…I'm beginning to believe you enjoy keeping things like this from me."

"Hey, it was Christine's idea, I just drove her there," Amir said, holding up his hands in defense.

"And I am very happy you did," Erik beamed, turning his attention back to Christine. "For now, we have something to celebrate. Perhaps I could treat you to a little dinner and then a show?" he offered. "It has come to my attention that, other than that one morning we ate breakfast out, I have had little opportunity to wine and dine you."

"Oh…well, with Mrs. Murphy there to cook for us, why would we ever need to go out?" she laughed.

"Because it is what husbands and wives do on occasion," Erik explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I will call home and tell Mrs. Murphy to scuttle any plans she had for dinner and to take the night off. Then I will take you out to a fancy restaurant and a show. How does that sound?"

"Like a dream come true," she smiled, wrapping her arms around him as she hugged him tightly. "You sure know how to treat a girl special, Mr. Thorn."

"Well…I am learning," he admitted, returning the gesture. Erik was loving how Christine was no longer afraid of showing him bits of affection, even in front of others, it would seem. If only he could convince her to take it one step further. Yet, he would wait…forever if needs be, for his little wife was worth it.

.

.

Erik had not only given Mrs. Murphy the night off, but Amir as well, escorting Christine home personally as they sat in the back of the limo, with her telling him every detail about her experience at the DMV. When they got to the house, Erik instructed her to get changed, into something fancy, as he too altered his attire. Christine came out holding up two different dresses, asking him which one would be appropriate.

"I think the one on the left," he nodded approvingly. It was a lovely cream number, with bare shoulders and a high empire waist, the flowing skirt nearly touching the floor. It wasn't overly extravagant, but Erik knew she would look lovely in it.

"So, where are we going?" she called through the door of her bathroom, changing as quickly as possible.

"That is a surprise, my dear," he informed her, fiddling with his black tie, which for some reason refused to lie straight. "Much like your plans to go get your permit today."

"Are you upset that I didn't tell you?" Christine asked, stepping out in her fancy gown. She had to hold the skirt up so that it didn't drag the floor, since she had yet to put on shoes.

"No, not at all," he told her, undoing his tie a second time and starting over. "I am very proud of you, and I admire your bravery and tenacity. Yet, I would have liked to have been there to help you in some way."

"But you were!" she grinned, walking over and batting his hands away as she took over the job of fixing his tie. "As I went through the test, I could almost hear your voice in my head, whispering all the right answers to me."

"So…in essence, I helped you cheat?" Erik chuckled. For some odd reason, the fact that Christine was currently helping him with his tie made him swell with love for her. This was such a husband and wife thing to do, and he only wished he could take a photo of it to savor later.

"Oh, now you're being silly again," she giggled, cinching up his tie as she patted it approvingly and stepped back. "There, now you look perfect."

"As do you, my dear," Erik smiled. "If you are ready, shall we go?"

"Just let me grab some shoes and a wrap, then I'm all yours," she nodded, rushing to the closet to find some appropriate footwear.

 _Oh, if only that were true_ , Erik thought to himself. Christine might be his wife, and they were getting along very well, but she had still not become comfortable enough to become _all_ his. He only hoped that day would come soon.

.

.

In the closet, Christine could feel her face color, realizing only after she had spoken, how her statement had sounded. _All his_ …could she truly ever be that? She could no longer deny the physical attraction she had for Erik, but intimacy was a very big and frightening step. And yet, she had never felt as safe as when she was in her husband's arms. Did it really matter that he was keeping secrets from her? They weren't anything that affected her personally…or at least she didn't think so. And who cares if he wished to hide his face from her, Erik had as much right to his privacy as she did. Besides, people all over the world have fallen in love only through letters or e-mails, never meeting face to face until their emotions were already set in stone. Granted, mostly the ones you heard about were because the prisoner got out of jail and then murdered the women he'd been writing to…but she wasn't about to dwell on that!

Still, Christine was beginning to believe that maybe, just maybe, she was ready to seriously think about fulfilling that final part of the contract…the producing of an heir for Erik. Or, at least the act that would facilitate this. She couldn't believe the way the idea actually made her smile, or the funny tingle she got in the pit of her stomach over the notion. Could she truly be falling in love with her husband…with Erik?

"Are you having trouble in there?" came his curious voice, snapping her out of her daydream.

"No…I've got it," she announced, slipping her feet into a pair of nude pumps and grabbing a matching wrap off the shelf. "Be right there!" And after one last look at herself in the full-length mirror, she hurried out, eager to get the evening started.

.

.

"Erik…there's no one else here," she whispered as they entered the fancy restaurant, noting that none of the many tables had a single patron. "Maybe the food is terrible."

"No, I assure you, the food is exquisite," he laughed, taking her by the hand as the hostess led them to a table right in front of the fireplace. "I simply called ahead and reserved the place all to ourselves tonight."

"Erik…you didn't!" she gasped, stumbling just a bit as she turned to stare at him in shock.

"Oh, but I did," he grinned, pulling out her chair as he assisted her in sitting. "Nothing is too good for my wife."

"But…but this must have cost you a fortune," she hissed, doing her best to smile at the woman who had seated them. Once they were settled, the hostess left, a knowing grin on her face.

"As I said… _nothing_ is too good for you, Christine," he repeated.

"Would you care for some wine, Monsieur?" a finely dressed man asked, coming over with a bottle wrapped in a white linen cloth.

Erik gave a nod of consent, waiting for the man to pour a small amount in his glass to taste. After sipping at the vintage, and giving his approval, the man filled both their glasses, placing the bottle in a nearby silver bucket before leaving with a polite bow.

"Umm… thank you," Christine called after him, still feeling a bit dizzy from all this.

"I frequent this establishment from time to time, and they are not opposed to offering me a few concessions now and then," he continued with his explanation, "I also took the liberty of pre-ordering, that way we would not run the risk of being late for the show."

"And what show are we going to, might I ask?" Christine was certain that they were far too overdressed for a shoot-em-up flick at the local Cinemark.

"I have secured box seats to the Met tonight," Erik replied casually. "They are performing La Bohème."

At this, Christine nearly choked on her wine, once again requiring Erik to lean over and pat her on the back.

"The Met?" she sputtered, holding her napkin to her lips as she coughed a few more times. "I…I haven't been there since my father got sick."

"Oh, Christine," Erik said, suddenly concerned he might have done the wrong thing. "Will it be too difficult for you? Would you prefer we change our plans?"

"No, not at all, I…I think I would very much like to go back there, especially now that Papa's getting better," she admitted, a pleased smile crossing her lips at the idea. She had been avoiding her father's old work place, or anywhere else she feared she might run into someone he knew. It had simply become too difficult to have them ask about him, especially when she could offer them no good news. Yet now…well, she only hoped she would see his former workmates and they would ask after his condition. Boy, wouldn't they be surprised!

"Excellent, we will continue with our plans as scheduled then," he agreed, sitting back in his chair just as the waiter arrived with their first course.

"A delicious tomato bisque, with cream and basil, to start you off," the gentleman announced, setting the bowls in front of them both. "Enjoy."

"Oh, this looks delicious," Christine said, leaning forward just a bit as she smelled the soup. "What's coming next?"

"I ordered us Pork Souvlaki with rice pilaf and a Greek salad," he informed her, removing his napkin from the table and laying it across his lap. "I think you will like it."

"Oh, I'm sure I will," she agreed, dipping her spoon into the soup and giving it a taste. "I think I'm going to love everything about this evening!"

.

.

And so she did, from the dinner and dessert, to the wonderful performance at the Met. She had been to the Metropolitan Opera many times in the past, but never had she been treated to such fine seats, feeling much like a queen sitting up so high from all the other patrons. She had paid extra attention to the orchestra, picking out a few familiar faces, while noticing there were quite a number she didn't recognize. And even though the first violinist was quite talented, she knew that her father…as well as Erik…were much, much better.

After the performance, she asked if they could go down and speak to those in the orchestra pit, wishing to tell a few of them about her father's eminent recovery. Many of the musicians were tickled to see her, having watched her grow from a young girl into a woman right before their eyes. Some had heard of her rather notable marriage, while others had been surprised when Christine introduced Erik as her husband. Yet what thrilled them the most was her description of her father, and how he was showing signs of improvement every day. They all asked her to send him their best, and they hoped the next time they saw her, Charles would be right there, walking beside her.

.

.

The entire evening had been perfect, and Christine couldn't imagine the night getting any better. She wrapped both her arms around Erik's as they walked up the aisle, heading for the exit, unable to wipe the smile off her face. She could honestly say she was as happy as she'd ever been, and every bit of her joy was in some way thanks to the man at her side. _Her husband._ And perhaps, if things continued the way they were, tonight just might be the night she truly allowed herself to become _his wife_. The idea sent a thrill of excitement right down to her toes, and she ducked her head in embarrassment as a wave of impure thoughts crashed over her. Oh, yes…Erik just might be getting lucky tonight!

By the time they made it down to the limo, where Gerald was waiting patiently, Christine was grinning from ear to ear.

"Did you have a nice time, Mrs. Thorn?" the chauffeur asked, noticing her expression the moment they came near.

"Only the best time ever!" she informed him. "The only thing that could have made it better, was if I'd been able to drive us here myself."

"Oh, no, I saw what you did to Mr. Dessan's car," Gerald laughed, opening the door for her. "How about until you get a bit more practice in, you just let me do the driving."

"Fine," she huffed in mock anger. She then turned and looked up at Erik who was smiling over her apparent good mood and teasing nature. "But you'll still let me drive one of your fancy cars someday…right?"

"Of course I will, Christine," he assured her, laughing loudly as she turned and stuck her tongue out at Gerald. Yet she took him by surprise when she unexpectedly spun back and launched herself at him - throwing her arms around his neck, as she went to kiss him rather suddenly. And while Erik would have thoroughly enjoyed such a gesture, in her excitement, Christine's ring caught on the strap that held his mask in place, causing it to shift rather dangerously, nearly exposing his face to her.

Caught off guard, Erik let out a cross between an angry growl and the cry of a wounded animal. Yanking himself backwards, he turned away from her, his hand immediately going to his mask in an effort to conceal his mangled flesh. His sudden actions nearly caused Christine to topple over, but thankfully, Gerald reached out and grabbed hold of her before she could go down. Pulling her back into a standing position the chauffer remained holding her, the two of them staring at Erik in confusion.

Panic and humiliation radiated off Erik, causing him to take several deep breaths before he could manage to think clearly once more. If it had been anyone but Christine, he was certain he would have laid them out right there for even coming close to his mask. Yet Erik knew it had been an accident, and that his innocent wife had not meant to touch it…still, the damage was done. He had once again ruined a fine evening with his ultimate fear, that of her seeing what he kept hidden from everyone… _his hideous face._

"Erik?" Christine whispered, her voice revealing both her confusion and fear. "I…I didn't mean…"

Erik held up his hand, stopping her there, though he still did not dare to turn and look at her. What must she think? He wanted to explain, to apologize for his rude actions, but he didn't know what to say.

Thankfully, he was saved from having to say anything by the sudden and unexpected appearance of Amir's car, pulling up behind the limo. The Persian jumped out and came running over, an expression of concern on his face. When he saw the rather odd way everyone was standing there, he paused, looking at each of them for a hint of explanation. However, his news apparently outweighed his curiosity, and he leaned in, Amir whispered something to Erik, keeping his voice low enough so that only he could hear. Erik gave a nod of compliance, though he didn't seem any happier about that than he was over Christine's mistake with his mask. Turning to face her, he managed to speak as last.

"You…you must forgive me, Christine," he said, his voice a bit low and hoarse. "It appears there is a…work emergency that needs my immediate attention. Gerald will drive you home and I…I will see you later." And with that he turned and followed Amir back to his car, the two men taking off into the night.

"What…what just happened?" Christine asked, looking up at Gerald with tears brimming in her eyes. "We were having such a nice time…I don't understand."

"Mr. Thorn is very sensitive about his mask," the large man said with a sigh of regret. "You can't take it personally. Now come on, let's get you home."

 _Don't take it personally?_ Christine thought to herself as she let Gerald assist her into the back of the limo. How was she _not_ supposed to take it personally when her own husband wouldn't even let her see what he looks like? And if she must always be so careful around him, how were they ever to share an intimate bond? Up until now the entire night had been wonderful, leaving Christine with such warm and happy feelings…all of which had been shot to the ground by her accidental touch of Erik's mask.

She reached up and wiped her eyes with the corner of her wrap, wishing his actions hadn't hurt her as much as they did. Why couldn't Erik trust her? Why was he so afraid? But as Gerald drove her home in silence…no answers came, only tears.

* * *

 **Awwww, poor Christine. Her wonderful plans dashed to pieces by the slip of a mask. Bet Erik will just HATE himself to learn that this could have been the night if things had gone better.**

 **So she has her permit now, good for her! And Erik was very proud of her for getting it.**

 **Again, he was very happy to have her drop by unexpectedly, though a bit surprised by it as well.**

 **Wow, buying out the whole restaurant? Tickets to the Met? Erik knows how to treat a lady!**

 **DRAT...now things are back to awkward between them, and why in the world did he need to run off again like that? Amir...you really do come at the most inopportune times!**

 **Erik will have some explaining to do when he gets home...again!**

 **PS. Bragging rights to any who guess what BBC show, as well as the hunky actor, that Christine was referring to in this chapter. ha ha.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest:** Lazy Saturdays are the best, and yes, Charles has made yet another improvement! Erik is beginning to realize that Christine is on HIS side...and he loves that feeling. There's that phrase again, Drama Llamas. ha ha. Thanks!

 **Kristin:** (chapter 39) Erik sure hopes they are always this happy too. And Erik almost said the L word, but what he did say was rather nice too. (chapter 40) Yep, the little things mean the most to Erik, and he is seeing his wife in a new light almost every day. Charles is indeed getting better and better. Glad it made you smile. Thanks.

 **Thorpendipity:** Good, I need a peppy cheer leader, ha ha. Glad you liked the chess match, I just figured it was time that Erik realized he was not the best at EVERYTHING. Oh, he can still beat her a good portion of the time, but now and then, she can trounce him good. "YOU SUNK MY BATTLESHIP!" Fan Fiction is a wonderful place to stretch your literary legs, so to speak. You get so much awesome feedback and encouragement, as well as wonderful constructive criticism and assistance, that I have no idea how regular writers manage to plod on! I always answer every review - that I can - figuring that if you took the time to send in a nice comment, the least I can do it respond to it! Ok, I will admit that your comment about you being a raven confused me...is Thorpendipity the name of a raven from some show? And I know the feeling...I hate pecking out words on my phone or tablet with my fingers too! I need a full-size keyboard, thank you very much! Thanks for the review!

 **Guest:** Ha ha, your 'Le Gasp' reminded me of the old Looney Tunes cartoon about Pepe Le Pew. ha ha. Yep, Charles is making improvements by leaps and bounds. And Erik had a lot of feet to rub, so he might be running behind...but you're on the list, and he's coming. Just wait. Thanks.

 **PG4044:** Sometimes you just need a few chapters full of fluff...so you can say Awwwww. And then right back into the drama! ha ha. How Charles is going to react to Erik when he can speak is still up for grabs. I mean, a father's love runs deep...and so does his vengeance. Yep, he was showing no signs of movement at all, no eye movement, no speaking, no twitching, and while he could still blink, it was involuntary, and nothing he could control in able to communicate. But now...well, we are getting someplace! Yes, it is a very good thing that Erik has the money to see that everything is fixed. What a guy. Thanks.

 **Guest:** Yes, she is trying to shield him from ridicule...even if it is just from Amir. ha ha. And nope, Erik can't be the king of everything, now can he. ha ha. He must bow to the queen every now and then. I think we would all have loved to have been there and stood up for Erik when he was a little kid, showing him that he can be loved! That was one of my reasons for writing Seeing is Believing...just so that someone could. You wonder if Erik was inspired by a real person for real...or in my mind? I got confused by your question. And Erik is on his way...I promise, he's just a bit behind in schedule. Your foot rub will be there soon. Thanks.

 **SineQuaNon:** I am sorry the plot line seems a bit tedious to you, but long, drawn out stories is just the way I write, I'm afraid. Yes, you are right, things might be moving slow, and the relationships between the three girls might be moving too fast., but just keep reminding yourself...This is fiction. Not real life...oh if only we COULD write real life for ourselves *sigh*. I appreciate you taking the time to point these things out, but I fear there is little I can do to change them now, I can only hope that if you should continue reading, things will be more to your liking. But remember, life is short, don't waste your time reading something that upsets you. My feelings will not be hurt if you choose not to. Respectfully, FP33


	42. Chapter 42

.

 **The drama continues!**

 **But I am also about to give you all something you've been waiting for as well.**

 **And congratulations to everyone who guessed that the BBC show was Poldark, with hunky Aidan Turner. Bragging rights are yours!**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 42**

 **~X~**

* * *

Erik had been both grateful, and enraged, by Amir's interruption, yet when his Persian friend explained the situation, he knew there was nothing he could have done but leave to attend to it. In the end, having to deal with other things afforded him the time he needed to calm himself down, something he would need to do before returning home to Christine. Erik gave a low moan and leaned his head back against the headrest as Amir drove them back to the house.

"So…are you going to tell me what that was all about when I drove up?" Amir asked at last, the question having been on his mind through the entire meeting. "It looked like some kind of Mexican standoff."

"That about sums it up," Erik said with a sigh.

"Did you say something stupid again and anger Christine?" Amir guessed.

"NO! I did not," Erik huffed. "Why must you always assume the worst?"

"Force of habit, I guess," he shrugged. "So, if it wasn't your mouth getting you in trouble, what was it?"

"My face!" he hissed, slamming his fist into the side of the car door.

"Hey, watch it, I just got this baby back from the body shop, don't go forcing me to take her back in!" Amir growled. "Now…what do you mean, _your face?_ She didn't see anything…did she?"

"If she had, do you honestly think I would have allowed her out of my sight?" Erik sneered. "For if so, I would not have a wife at all by the time I made it home. She would have already packed up and run away screaming in terror." He shut his eyes for a few moments, taking deep breaths, before speaking again. "Christine went to kiss me, and caught her ring on the strap of my mask, dislodging it. I was able to right it in time, stopping her from seeing anything, yet not before I frightened her by my actions in the process. If Gerald had not been there, I'm certain she would have taken a tumble onto the sidewalk because of it."

"Christine's all right though?" Amir asked in concern.

"Yes…but I left her frightened and confused," he said. "And now I do not know what to expect when I get home. We were having such a wonderful night, celebrating her achievement, and I had to go and screw it all up."

"You don't know that," Amir said with an exasperated sigh. "You never give her enough credit, you know that? Christine is far more forgiving and understanding that you realize, and after all the crap she's had to put up with from you already, the fact that she's still here speaks volumes about her character. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and just _try_ to be happy for once. You deserve a bit of joy in your life."

"Christine is my joy… _she_ is my happiness," Erik informed him. "Without her…I…I am unsure if I could go on."

"Now you're just being melodramatic…again," Amir said with a roll of his eyes. Reaching up he pushed the little remote on his sun-visor, causing the entrance gate to swing open, allowing them to continue up the driveway. "How about you go upstairs, talk to your wife, and explain to her _why_ you freaked out. I know it's your least favorite topic, but I think it's high time you told her about your face, and maybe what took place when we first met." He then brought the car to a stop and shut off the engine. Turning in his seat, Amir gave Erik a pointed stare. "Give Christine a chance to understand you better…I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."

"Or horribly disappointed," Erik countered, reaching for the door handle and stepping out into the night, shutting it behind him.

"That's the spirit…always a little ray of sunshine," Amir said sarcastically, watching his dejected friend head inside.

.

.

Christine had been home for hours, and even though it was long past midnight, she couldn't fall asleep. She kept running the events of that evening over and over in her mind, desperately trying to understand Erik's point of view. She hadn't meant to touch his mask, it had been an accident, yet he had reacted so violently it had frightened her just a little bit. Oh, he didn't appear to blame her…at least not much, but just the idea that he would respond so strongly to a mere touch, concerned her greatly. What would he do if she ever _did_ see what he hid beneath the mask? Would he fly into a rage? Would he hate her? Erik had made it more than clear that such a thing would never happen, and if it did, especially by her hand, it was to be considered a breach of contract.

 _Oh, that blasted contract!_ How Christine hated it, and all it stood for. That loathsome piece of paper that whittled their relationship down to the most clinical of agreements. And while that had seemed adequate at first, now Christine wanted more. She wanted Erik… _and his heart!_ But how could she ever hope to possess it, or give him hers, with a mask and a contract standing between them?

Rolling over in bed she flopped on her back, staring up at the darkened ceiling as she let out a groan of frustration. Could his face truly be _that_ bad? Was Erik just overreacting…he _did_ have a tendency to do that, she had learned. And yet, he willingly wore a mask twenty-four hours a day…that had to say something!

Balling her hands into fists, she struck the mattress on either side of her, letting out a growl of rage and frustration.

"ERIK THORN, YOU THOROUGHLY CONFUSE ME!" she shouted into the darkness.

"And for that I deeply apologize," came a quiet voice from across the room, causing Christine to sit up in shock. "It was never my intention to do so."

"Erik?" she gasped, placing her hand over her wildly beating heart. "I didn't hear you come in! You startled me!"

"Then it would appear I have even more things to beg your forgiveness for this evening," he mumbled, stepping out of the shadows and slowly walking towards his side of the bed. He had just slipped inside the room as Christine had yelled into the darkness, causing him to feel even more of a heel for irritating her further. When he saw her lean over to turn on the bedside lamp, he held up his hand. "No…please, do not turn on the lights."

"Why?" she asked, though she pulled her hand back as directed.

"I…I feel I need to tell you something, and I would greatly prefer to do so under the cover of shadows," he explained, taking a seat on the foot of the bed, his shoulders hunched and his eyes downcast.

"Is it about what took you away tonight?" Christine questioned, grateful for the moonlight streaming in the room, allowing her to see some of her husband's expressions. "Nothing bad happened at Phantom Industries did it?"

"No, all is fine at the office," he told her. "That is not what I wish to talk about." As much as he hated to admit that Amir was right about something, Erik had decided it was time he told her some of his most painful secrets. If Christine knew what had happened to him in the past, no matter how humiliating it had been, she might understand his reluctance for her to see what lay beneath his mask. It would be difficult to do so, but the thought of losing his wife's trust, and newfound affection, frightened him more. "You once asked about the scar on my chest…and how Amir and I met. I believe it is time for you to hear that story."

"You…you do? Um…all right," Christine nodded, doing her best to hide her shock…and excitement, over this news. Erik was at last going to tell her something from his past? Something he had thus far been reluctant to share, and while she desperately wished to hear it…Christine found it frightened her just a bit as well. Would anything he said cause her to look at him differently? To no longer feel… _affection for him?_ She truly hoped not. "I'm listening," she prompted, afraid if he delayed, he might change his mind.

"It is not a pleasant tale…and if at any time you wish for me to stop, please…just say so," Erik offered, still not willing to raise his head or make eye contact with her. "And Christine…if at all possible, please do not think badly of me after you hear it," he all but begged. Then, before she could respond, or he lost his nerve…Erik began to speak, his mind spinning back sixteen years into the past, to a time and place he had long wished he could forget.

~XXX~

After leaving France, Erik had traveled to many places, never staying long, for he never felt welcome. He first went to England, then Germany, before continuing his way east, spending time in Italy, Hungry, Romania and Turkey. In Iran he found employment, working for a wealthy warlord named Navid Dessan. The extent of what the man did to afford his luxurious lifestyle was a bit sketchy, and Erik had no doubt that it centered on many illegal things - yet the job offered him a place to sleep, plenty of food, and a decent wage. Besides, now at the age of twenty-two, Erik had become so disillusioned by the world and people in general, he didn't care what he did or who it was for…just as long as he got what _he_ wanted out of it.

Navid had a large palatial home in the country, one that afforded considerable privacy for him and his family, yet also required a great deal of guards and men to protect it. This was where Erik came in. He had long ago learned how to go about unseen, preferring to remain hidden whenever possible, in order to avoid people's stares, their harsh words, or their painful fists. This skill came in very handy at times, and this was apparently one of them. Erik quickly became the resident spy for the Dessan family, learning information, reporting on possible attacks, and generally supplying his employer with anything that was noteworthy. Many times, Erik had been called upon to aid in the squelching of some pidly uprising, using his talents and his services to protect Navid's many investments.

It didn't take long for Erik to acquire a reputation, gaining the name _Phantom_ , for his stealth and ability to infiltrate the most secure and secretive places – not to mention the mystery that surrounded his use of a mask. Navid appreciated his abilities, and rewarded Erik handsomely for his efforts.

Yet what truly kept Erik in the man's employment was Navid's daughter, Roshni. Her name meant _shining_ , and to a young man who had never been with a woman, nothing had ever shone so bright as her. She was a few years older than him, with long black hair and eyes the color of emeralds. Her ruby red lips and curvaceous figure seemed to taunt Erik whenever he saw her, causing his own body to awaken with desire. Yet, never did he dare speak to her, wishing only to be left alone, to do his work…and gaze upon her from afar.

That is, until the day _she_ approached him! Looking back, Erik could easily see that Roshni held no affection for him, no true desire, only curiosity and the thrill of flirting with danger. His mask, as well as his profession, seemed to intrigue the young woman, and more and more she would find ways for the two of them to be alone, all the while plying the naive Erik with her feminine wiles.

Navid also had a son, Roshni's older brother, Amir, who had just recently returned from studying abroad in Europe. His father had hoped that his heir, now at the age of twenty six, would finally wish to settle down, take a wife, and assume his place in the family business. Unfortunately, Amir did not seem at all interested in doing so, having a rather disapproving attitude towards his father's way of making a living. Still, he remained, not exactly participating in any of Navid's nefarious deals, but not putting a stop to them either. Erik had met Amir a few times, spoken to him once or twice, but other than that, the two pretty much ignored each other.

Yet, Erik could hardly ignore Roshni, especially when she began dragging him behind buildings, or into the bushes, and plying him with kisses and sweet words. He had never been treated like this before, and the more time they spent in each other's embrace, the farther Erik wished to take things. He would have done anything for Roshni at this point, and she had him completely fooled into believing that she loved him.

Little did Erik know, that Amir, ever watchful and observant, had been witness to their little rendezvous, and did not look upon such things with favor. Yet even if he had known, Erik was too far gone to stop now, Roshni had completely consumed his mind.

At last, on a night when her father was scheduled to be out late, there came an unexpected knock at Erik's bedroom door, causing him to lay down the book he had been reading and go to answer it. The moment he opened it, Roshni slipped in, shutting it quickly behind her.

"What are you doing here?" Erik hissed, knowing the danger they would both be in if they were caught together like this. It didn't help matters that Roshni was wearing only a flimsy robe, her curves quite visible through the gauzy fabric.

"I _need_ you, Erik," she said in lieu of an explanation, advancing forward as she moved to embrace him. "I can't stand it any longer…I want us to be together."

 _"Together?"_ Erik was shocked. He had dreamed of such a thing, but never dared believe any woman would actually request it of him.

"I want you to make love to me, Erik," she insisted, placing her hands on his chest and pushing him backwards until his legs came in contact with the side of the bed. Falling across it, he stared up at her, watching with a gaping mouth as she slipped off the robe and stood before him in the sexiest - and only - negligee he had ever seen. It reached to the floor, but had a high slit on either side, revealing sheer stockings that covered most of her legs, giving him just the barest peek of her upper thighs. "You are all I've been dreaming of for weeks now, and tonight, I offer myself to you. Will you deny yourself the pleasure of my body, Erik? Will you deny _me_ the pleasure of yours?"

"I…I have never had a woman desire my body before," he managed to say at last, still overwhelmed by all that was taking place.

"Then I will be your first?" this news seemed to please her a great deal, and she climbed onto the bed, straddling his waist as she placed her hands on his shoulders. "I promise to be very gentle…unless you prefer me not to be," she added with a wicked smile. "Oh, Erik, the things I can do to you will leave you begging for more. Yet, all I ask is one thing in return."

"And…and what is that?" he asked, his voice now a hoarse whisper, his body literally humming with desire. Erik knew he was putting all good sense aside, that he was allowing his hormones to govern his thinking, when the wise thing would be to send Roshni away. Yet, with her so near, and her offering him something he never dreamed of possessing…he simply couldn't. Erik would give her anything she asked for. _Anything._

"Show me your face, Erik," she demanded, her voice now a sultry purr, knowing she had him at last. "Show me what you refuse to show anyone else, and I will give you what you've always dreamed of."

Erik was shocked. She asked the impossible…and yet, was she not here, with him, willing to give herself over in every way? Perhaps Roshni would be the one who could look upon him and not run, scream, or faint? He had wished for this moment for so long, daring only to hope in his darkest dreams for an offer of love. And this was love… _wasn't it?_ Erik had never known what it felt like to be cared for, to be treated kindly, so everything was so very new to him. Yet, from the way his body was reacting, he had to believe this was it.

"Do…do you promise that you will still…" Erik paused there, unwilling to speak the word out loud, for fear it would frighten her. "Do you promise to still go through with it if I do?"

"Of course, my darling," she assured him, running her hands up and down his chest. "You can trust me."

"Trust is not something I am overly familiar with," he confessed, feeling a hint of insecurity creep into his mind, yet her sultry words and the warmth of her body were too overpowering.

"Then let's do it together," Roshni suggested, easing her way off of him and pulling him back to his feet. "I will take something off, and then you will…until we are both bared to each other. Will that ease your mind?"

Erik once again felt a niggling of doubt, but pushed it away, greatly desiring to see what lay beneath her gown. He nodded stiffly, his fingers moving to unbutton and remove his shirt, revealing his chiseled chest to her hungry eyes. Once it was off and tossed to the floor, she sat down on the end of the bed and removed one of her stockings, the slowness of her actions being a new form of torture for his eager body. Next went Erik's pants, then her other stocking, when he divested himself of his underclothes, now standing there in only his mask, Roshni stopped and gave an approving nod, letting him know that she was pleased by what she saw. As his reward, she finally removed her nightgown, revealing that she had not been wearing any underthings herself, and exposing every inch of her lovely form to his eyes.

"Now…that only leaves one thing left," she cooed, stepping closer and running her hands up and down his chest and around his hips in a seductive manner. "Remove your mask and let me make love to you…to all of you."

All common sense had left Erik by this point, he was too far gone to even think of refusing her. And so, with shaking hands, he began to untie the strings at the back of his head that held the mask in place, praying all the while that she would prove true to her word…that she was indeed offering him the love and acceptance he so desperately needed.

Yet, the moment his mask fell to the floor, all his hopes and dreams fell with it. Roshni froze, her face morphing from anticipation, to that of horror. She stumbled backwards, desperate to get as far away from his face as possible, tripping over her discarded nightgown in the process. Erik instinctively reached out to catch her, but she let out an ear-piercing scream as she pushed his hands away, landing on the floor with a hard thud.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" she cried, inching backwards, grabbing her flimsy robe as she went, attempting to cover herself as best she could. "Get away… you… _you monster! You freak!"_

"Roshni…" Erik pleaded, one hand moving to cover his face, while the other reached out towards her once again. This was apparently the wrong thing to do, for it caused her to scream all the louder, the sound of her cries nearly piercing his ears…as well as his heart. Unsure what to do, Erik grabbed his mask and tied it back in place, before snatching his pants and quickly tugging them on as well.

Yet before he could do any more, there was the sound of feet running down the hall, and seconds later his door burst open, the hinges being partially ripped from the doorframe. And there, with at least half a dozen of his bodyguards, stood Navid, his eyes taking in the scene before him with both rage and disbelief.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" he demanded, his expression turning deadly. For there was his half naked daughter crouched on the floor, with the man he had hired as a spy, standing before her wearing nothing but his trousers…and even they were not fully done up. It didn't take long for him to wrongly assume what had been going on. Turning to his men, he signaled for them to attack, the six of them racing forward and grabbing hold of Erik in an effort to subdue him.

Knowing just how things looked, he tried to fight back, knocking one man out and breaking another one's nose before they got the drop on him. And while Erik had always been freakishly strong, even he was no match for that many all at once. He was punched and kicked many times, before being forced to his knees, his arms held tightly behind him by several of Navid's men.

In the meantime, his employer had gone to Roshni's side, assisting her to rise and slip on the robe, though it did very little to cover her modesty. The woman was still in tears, burying her face in her father's chest as she sobbed in fear.

"Tell me what happened!" Navid demanded, looking from his daughter to Erik and back again. "Did he hurt you?"

"He…he…" she began, doing her best to compose herself, and now that Erik had replaced his mask, she was at last able to look in his direction.

Erik lifted his head, their eyes meeting across the room, and for a split second he thought he saw a spark of compassion…of pity in them. Yet, once again, all his hopes were dashed to pieces as she continued to speak.

"He…he tried to rape me!" she accused, her words coming out in a loud screech, one that cut Erik to the core.

"WHAT? NO!" Erik cried out in denial, his protests earning him a kick to his stomach and a brutal slap to the side of his head. Yet, no one heeded his words, and Roshni continued with her vicious lies.

"I was on my way to my room when he…he came up from behind and grabbed me." She was now punctuating her story with intermittent sobs, playing the role of the victim to the hilt. "I tried to fight him, Bâbâ, but he was too strong for me. He brought me here, stripped me of my clothes, and was set to have his way with me, but at last I was able to break free and scream for help. Thank goodness you came home early, Bâbâ…or I don't know what would have happened!"

"Yet…he didn't defile you?" Navid asked, his tone somewhat tender as he tipped Roshni's face up to meet his. "Didn't rob you of your virtue?"

"No…he was about to…but I wouldn't let him," she insisted, crumpling into his arms once more as if unable to remain standing. "I fought him off in time."

Navid seemed satisfied by this, though when he turned and looked at the man kneeling before him, his face became hard as stone. Calling one of his men over he passed off Roshni to him, allowing the angry father to stand directly in front of Erik.

"I trusted you…I gave you employment…I even rewarded you for a job well done," he seethed, bits of spit flying off his lips as he spoke out vehemently. "And _this_ is how you repay me? By attempting to rape my daughter?"

"No…it is a lie…I did not…" but that was as far as he got, for he was silenced by a fist to his face by Navid, causing Erik's head to snap back violently.

"SILENCE, SCUM!" he ordered. "You will pay for your crimes…starting with this!" Here he reached out and ripped Erik's mask from off his face, taking a step back in shock as he beheld what had been hidden all those long months. Navid had often been curious about why his spy wore a mask, yet as long as Erik did his job, he figured it didn't matter. But now…now he knew, and he was sickened by it.

"SEE, BÂBÂ!" Roshni screamed, turning away once more. "He's a hideous beast...one that tried to do vile things to me! He must be punished!"

"Yes…punished!" Navid agreed, signaling his men to pull Erik to his feet. "Tie him up," he directed, pointing at the two bedposts. The men quickly complied, ripping up the bedsheets in order to serve as rope, and soon they had Erik's arms stretched tight, each one tied to the wooden posts at the end of his bed.

Erik looked up at Navid as he approached, all the fight now gone from him. What had begun as a dream come true, had quickly turned into his worst nightmare. And all because he had dared to believe that a woman could ever look upon his face. Erik could feel his lip bleeding, his cheek and jaw were throbbing, and he wouldn't have been surprised if he had a few broken ribs, but nothing hurt more than the words Roshni had said…accusing him of attacking her for his lustful pleasures. He had never felt more betrayed. Yet, when his former employer was handed a wicked looking blade by one of the other men, Erik knew this night's torment was far from over.

"Any final words… _freak?"_ Navid sneered, appearing as if he were going to thoroughly enjoy what came next.

"I did nothing wrong," came Erik's weak reply, knowing that it would do no good.

"My daughter says otherwise, and whose word do you think I am going to believe?" Navid hissed, taking the blade and slashing Erik across the chest, the metal digging deeply into his flesh.

Erik let out a cry of pain, jerking back as far as his stretched arms would allow, but the damage was already done. He could feel his chest and stomach becoming coated with the blood that oozed from his wound, and he wondered how long this man would torture him before just letting him die. This was what came from working for a sadistic warlord, he supposed…for eventually, the snake always turns on you.

" _That_ is just a taste of what I intend to do," Navid threatened. "By the time the sun rises, you will be begging for death, but I will not let you get off so easy. My daughter deserves retribution…she is my pride and joy, my innocent flower! And a monster such as you dared to touch her?"

"Why not?" came a voice from the doorway. "Half the men in your employment already have, and with her full consent, I might add. What's one more?" Everyone turned to see Amir leaning against the door-jam, his arms folded over his chest and a look of utter disgust on his face.

"WHAT?" Navid roared, his eyes going from his son to his daughter and back again in shock.

"THAT'S A LIE!" Roshni screeched, throwing her brother a murderous glare.

"Is it now, little sister?" Amir snorted. "You don't think I've seen you slipping in and out the rooms of at least half the filth here," he asked, waving his hand towards several of the men standing around. "You were a vicious little slut before I left for England, and it would appear you've only perfected your craft while I've been away."

"Bâbâ! You can't believe him!" Roshni screamed, stomping her foot in anger. "Make him stop saying these lies!"

"Amir! You would disgrace your own sister with such baseless accusations?" Navid bellowed, looking at his son as if he no longer recognized him. And truth be told, ever since Amir had come home, he had been a different man.

"They're hardly baseless," Amir insisted. "But if it comes down to my word against hers, I know you will always side with your precious little jewel. Still…I'm not lying. If you need proof, have her examined by a doctor, they can attest to the fact that she is no longer a virgin, and hasn't been for some time I imagine."

Navid rushed towards Amir, grabbing his son by the collar as he glared menacingly at him.

"Why are you saying such things?" the older man persisted, his face turning an unhealthy shade of red. "Do you wish to bring shame upon our family? And all for what…to protect this _freak_?"

"I say it because it's the truth, something that's been lacking around here lately," Amir said with growl, ripping his father's hand from his shirt. "And I will not stand idly by and allow my own flesh and blood to destroy the life of someone who has done nothing wrong. His only crime here is having the misfortune of having a deformed face…and for putting his trust in the wrong woman."

Erik was having trouble following the conversation for the blood rushing through his ears was making it difficult to hear correctly…and yet, had Navid's own son just spoke in his defense? Erik had never had a friend in all his life, but at that moment, he was almost willing to consider Amir his first.

Navid was now both enraged and confused. Here was his own son, claiming that his sister was impure, and many times over. While his daughter denied the claim very strongly. Suddenly, he didn't know who to believe. Turning away from Amir he gazed at Roshni, trying to look upon her as an impartial observer, and not a doting father. Had she been deceiving him all this time? Playing on his love for her and hiding the truth about her many liaisons?

"Roshni…would you be willing to go see a physician in order to prove your brother's words false?" he asked, the seeds of doubt that Amir had planted now growing within his mind.

"WHAT?" Roshni gasped, looking at her father as if he had just betrayed her. "You would take _his_ word over mine? You would demand I prove what I say is true? If you don't trust me after all these years…then…then I hate you! _I hate you all!"_ And with that she ran from the room, shoving Amir out of the way as she went.

"Roshni! Wait!" Navid cried, taking a few halting steps after her. But he stopped, staring after her with the look of a man who had just lost everything. Turning around he let his eyes fall upon each of the men standing around, his heart sinking deeper and deeper into his chest as he watched them turn away, too guilty to even make eye contact with him. And then he knew…Navid knew the truth of Amir's words and how his daughter had been lying to him all this time. "Why, Amir…why would you turn on your own family like this?" he growled, anger springing to his face once more. "Where are your loyalties?"

"It's difficult to be loyal when your father is a killer and your sister a lying slut," Amir said, his eyes showing nothing but disappointment and disgust. "And I am no better, for I stayed…I remained here, knowing all along what you were doing. Mother was the only one of us who had morals and standards, and she's been gone for a long time."

"If you truly think so little of us…then why did you stay?" he demanded, his hands balling into fists. "By your words and actions, you show you despise me and the way I've made my living…a living, I might add, which fed, housed, and educated you all these years! I raised you to take over my business…to take after me!"

"I will never be like you, and I want no part of an empire built on blood. If you're willing to torture and kill this man simply on the word of another…no matter who that person is…then I want nothing more to do with this family!"

"You ungrateful traitor!" Navid screamed, taking the knife in his hand and throwing it in the direction of his son. Amir barely batted an eye as the blade lodged itself in the wall only inches from his head. "If that's how you feel, then get out! If you're willing to give it all up to save this hideous monster…then take him and go! But mark my words, you'll come crawling back, begging for my forgiveness one day!"

"Don't count on it," Amir said with a heavy sigh, one full of shame and regret. He then reached up and yanked the knife from the wall, calmly walking over to cut Erik's bonds. Allowing the bloody man's body to fall against him, Amir supported him on his right side, keeping him from collapsing to the floor. "Goodbye, Pedär," Amir told his father, and with that, he helped Erik stumble out the door, never looking back.

They left the compound with the sound of Navid's angry voice screaming after them, leveling threats and curses as they climbed into Amir's car and drove away.

.

Erik had been too dazed and in pain to speak until they were many miles away from Navid's fortress home. Amir handed Erik a piece of cloth, instructing him to hold it over his wound, and though it pained him greatly to do so, he did his best to comply.

"Why?" Erik asked, his voice still a bit strained. "Why would you do that… for me?"

"Because it was right," Amir answered, not taking his eyes off the dark road before him. "Because I was sick and tired of watching my father and sister getting away with murder. Because I needed to finally take a stand for something. And if I didn't do so for you…then who would?"

"But you don't even know me," Erik pointed out.

"I don't have to," he explained. "Everyone deserves a second chance, and it looked as if you were in desperate need of one."

"What about my face?" Erik asked, his voice coming out in a painful hiss as the car hit a bump, jostling his wound. His mask had been left behind on the floor, but thankfully it was his good side that faced the Persian as he drove.

"What about it?" Amir said with a shrug of his shoulders. "It's not as if you have any control over it," he reasoned. "You can't change it any more than I can change the fact that my family are…well, _not_ nice people."

"So…what happens now?" Erik inquired, hating the feeling of being indebted to anyone, or unsure of his future.

"Well, first we need to find a place to sleep for the night, and get that wound looked at," Amir reasoned. "I'm no doctor, but even I can tell you need to get that stitched up. You lost a lot of blood, and I don't think you can afford to lose much more before you pass out." He let his eyes drift over to man in his passenger seat, frowning slightly as he took in his appearance. "Press that rag harder to your chest, will ya! You need to get that bleeding stopped." Erik was about to thank him for his concern…until he added. "Because you're making a damned mess all over my clean car!"

Despite the pain, despite the fact that he was now unemployed, and even though he had just experienced the worst night of his life…Erik couldn't help but laugh at the man's words.

Perhaps he _had_ found a friend after all.

~XXX~

"And that is how I met Amir, earned this scar…and why you will _never_ see me without my mask," Erik finished, having related the entire sordid affair without leaving out a single detail.

"Oh…Erik," Christine whispered, her quivering hand now covering her mouth in horror at the idea of what her husband had suffered at the hands of that wretched woman. So, Roshni had been the one Erik had only kissed…yet never slept with. And all this while Christine had been worried that he might still be holding a torch for this mystery woman. When instead, she had been the one to betray and humiliate him.

"Please, Christine…I do not want your pity," he told her, turning his head away as if the idea repulsed him. "It was a long time ago, and I have since come to terms with it. But now I hope you understand why I reacted the way I did outside the Met. Since that day, no one but Amir has ever seen what I conceal beneath this mask…and if I have my way, no one ever will. _Especially you_."

Yes, Christine could see how greatly he feared a repeat performance of what happened with Roshni. And it broke her heart to think that he lumped her in with his view of all women when it came to that. Did Erik truly believe she would treat him so horribly? Didn't he trust her enough to even want to try? And yet, now that he had told her all this, Christine wondered if she truly could bear to see what lay behind his mask…for she would never wish to cause him an ounce of pain if she couldn't. Still, Erik was obviously in pain now, having laid bare such intimate things from his past. Christine could see why he had held off telling her all this for so long.

Pulling back the covers, she scooted her way down to the bottom of the bed, where she gently crawled into his lap, causing Erik to stiffen at her shocking actions. Once Chrstine was comfortably seated, she reached up and wound her arms around his neck, laying her head on his shoulder. She could hear his heart beating wildly within his chest, and his breath was coming out in ragged gasps.

"Erik…I don't pity you," she quietly explained. "Yes, I sorrow for the things you endured, for the pain you suffered at the cruel hands of others…but I don't pity you." She was quiet for a few more seconds, trying to gather her thoughts. "If anything, I'm proud of you."

 _"Proud?"_ he scoffed, sounding as if he was unable to believe her words.

"You have triumphed, Erik, come so far, and done so much," Christine explained. "You have not let your past define you, you have risen above it, and look at you now. You own your own company, you are beyond wealthy, and you saved me and my father from a life filled with sorrow and regret. If you hadn't come along, where would we be now? My papa would still be in that shameful care facility, wasting away while trapped inside his own body, and I…well, I have no idea what would have become of me." And now that she thought about it…her life had been going downhill fast. She was months behind in her rent, no savings, no way to help her father, and basically living with no hope. Yet Erik, in all his wonderful insanity, swooped in and rescued her, turning her life around with a mere stroke of a pen. "You saved me Erik Thorn…and I will forever be grateful to you."

And in an attempt to prove her appreciation, she turned his face to hers and kissed him tenderly.

Erik had been through the wringer that night, in more ways than one, but now to feel his beloved Christine's lips upon his, was like a healing balm. Desperate for more, his own arms wrapped themselves around her, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, pouring his heart and soul into showing her just what she meant to him. This was all he ever wanted, all he would ever truly need.

The kiss continued for some time, with both fanning the flames of passion that had ignited between them. Christine's nails dug into Erik's back, pulling him closer, while his hands wandered to places he had never dared dream she would allow, yet all the while, forcing himself to keep them on the outside of her nightgown.

However, almost as if they both realized they were quickly approaching the point of no return, they simultaneously pulled back…unprepared to take it any further. Erik was emotionally raw after his tale, and Christine was still unsure if she was truly ready, but neither one regretted having spent the last few minutes locked in a tender embrace.

"So…Amir has been with you ever since?" Christine asked, desperate for some topic to take their minds off their growing need for intimacy.

"Yes, he tended my wounds, though not as well as a doctor might have," he said with a bit of a grumble. "That man stitches like he is using a pair of knitting needles, and to this day, I believe _that_ is why my scar is so prominent."

"But he saved your life," Christine pointed out, knowing that no matter what the two men said, she could tell they were completely loyal to each other. "And he turned his back on his family as well."

"That he did," Erik agreed, a flash of gratitude coming to his eyes. "And I will forever be in his debt because of it. I owe him much."

"As do I," she whispered, reaching up and running her fingers over his shirt, feeling the scar beneath the fabric. "He saved you… _for me_."

"And I am yours, Christine," Erik assured her, taking hold of her hand and bringing it to his lips. "Only yours."

They sat there for several more minutes, looking into each other's eyes, lost in a mixture of emotions, until Erik at last spoke.

"We should get some sleep," he told her, reluctant to release her, yet feeling bone weary himself. "It will only take me a moment to change."

.

.

Christine lay there thinking while she listened to the water running and the sound of Erik slipping into his night clothes. It had cost him greatly to reveal what he had to her, and she couldn't have felt more close to him if they had been married for years. And yet…why was she still hesitant? She had nearly convinced herself that tonight could have been the night, but every time she felt ready, something happened. Was it fate…some cosmic warning? Something telling her to hold back? Christine wished she knew.

When Erik slipped in beside her, Christine went to turn over, eager to hold him in her arms, but he beat her to it. Scooting over to the middle, he curled up on his side, drawing her to him for once, burying his face in the back of her hair. They didn't speak…for there were no words more eloquent than the embrace that held them close. Tonight this was enough…tonight it was all they needed.

And together they drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 **Well, there you go. Now you all know just how Erik got that scar, how he and Amir met, and who that mysterious woman was that he only kissed, but never slept with!**

 **Rashni was a piece of work, wasn't she. And her dad was not far behind. Glad Amir recognized all this and got out.**

 **Wasn't Amir just so sweet? Erik made a friend...sadly, one with horrible stitching skills. ha ha.**

 **Poor Erik...he is all wrung out now. That was hard for him to confess, he needs some snuggle time.**

 **But no...the drama is not over yet.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Cayla: (chapter 40)** Sorry I didn't get your review into the last chapter's posting. Sometimes my E-Mail will hold messages and then download them all at once...yours was among that batch. I figured with it only being her and her father, he would have taught her the game and they would have played it a lot, allowing her to become a master at it. ha ha. She was sweet to throw the game for Erik's sake, and she got a foot rub too! Charles is indeed getting better and better! And you guess right, he will be answering questions before you know it. Erik would be jealous of a butterfly if it chose to land on Christine's head. ha ha. There will be more fluff...but it will be interspersed with a bit more drama for a while...as you probably read, this little bit of drama didn't even involve Raoul, but I think we all know he's still out there, like a ticking time bomb. ha ha. Thanks for your review and again, sorry it didn't get answered in the last chapter.

 **GuestRP:** You guessed it right! Poldark it is. Yes, if she has skinned her knee falling down, Erik would have hated himself - well, more so than he normally does. Gerald is a good friend to Erik...isn't he? Not sure where Leroux got his ideas...maybe the Phantom did truly exist!? Erik is learning very well to be a good husband, and I think Christine is very lucky to have him. And I'm with you...Erik is so much easier to understand and predict than Ross Poldark. Hence the reason I write in THIS fandom and not over there. ha ha. As for Richard Armitage, he makes a pretty hunky Thorin Oakenshield you know...and he was ONE of the reasons I headed over to THAT fandom and wrote a story with him in it (but mostly about Fili). I did enjoy the North and South show he was in...very stoic character, much like Erik. Thanks.

 **Gummy:** Your costume choice sounds good. No one will come near you, ha ha. And your whole idea about Erik having Carlotta's name tattooed on his face...I had to read that twice! And I laughed and laughed. Yep, that's mask material right there if I ever saw it. And Erik climbing out the bathroom window...priceless. Thanks for the giggle.

 **Guest:** Yep, you guessed it and your bragging rights are in the mail. Look for them! Amir thanks you for the money, but he chose to by coffee, some Hungry Man dinners, and a pair of fuzzy dice for his car. And he was just delivering the message, it wasn't his fault the timing sucked. I'm glad you are taking these children in hand, mother-reader, they need a stern talking to. Thanks

 **GuestWraithSnake:** GREAT! Thanks for liking my other stories too, Mystery Behind the Mask is one of my favorites as well. Suspense is a killer...I hope you survive to the end. ha ha. I can't help but write 'slow' stories, I have so many things I want them to do and say that I feel like I am only doing half a story if I don't put them all in. Glad you are enjoying that. Doing a modern day story has been a lot of fun, and a real eye opener, I might have to dream up another one. ha ha. Thanks so much.

 **Kristin:** Yep, stupid mask! Trust is one of Erik's hardest things to do. Date night WAS good...it was the ending that sucked. Christine is easy to please, but Erik is not. So, he usually goes all out. ha ha. Thanks.

 **PG4044:** Oh, man, he really WOULD be in hot water if he had said THAT! ha ha. Ahhh, but if it were not for the stupid mask, we kind of wouldn't have much of a story, and as you said...who would Erik be? Just some hot, rich, stud...oh darn. (said sarcastically) ha ha. Thanks!


	43. Chapter 43

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 **A few of you have asked, what does Erik's mask look like. I try to mix things up a little for each story, and while I usually go for a full mask, I thought it might be a bit tooooo odd for modern day Erik, so I gave him the 'half mask' like in the play. His right side is all messed up (descriptions coming when the unmasking takes place) but his left side is alright. Hope that clears things up.**

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 **Chapter 43**

 **~X~**

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As the sun peeked over the hills and slowly brought Christine out of her slumber, she realized that something was different. She was alone. Not only alone in the bed, but in the whole room too, since she could not detect any sounds coming from the bathroom or closet, alerting her to the fact that Erik might still be nearby. Turning over, her suspicions were confirmed by the sight of a note and a rose, lying on the pillow beside her.

Christine picked up the flower, taking in the aroma for a moment before setting it down. It was one of the few left from her night of the recital, with the cleaning lady, Janet, having diligently weeded out the wilted ones until only a few of the younger blossoms remained. Unfolding the note, she sat against the headboard and read the words Erik had written.

 _My darling Christine,_

 _I fear that my somewhat wounded pride would not allow me to face you this morning, and I apologize for my lack of courage to wake you and bid farewell in person. You were the epitome of kindness and grace last night, and I thank you for listening with forgiveness and understanding. Perhaps by this evening my old wounds will have once again scarred over enough for me to not feel so…vulnerable._

 _Again, your willingness to listen and not judge touched me deeply. I have no words to express my gratitude._

 _Your devoted husband,_

 _Erik_

Christine reached up and wiped at the tears that had begun to slide down her cheek. _Oh, Erik…you have no reason to feel ashamed,_ she thought to herself. And he had no idea that confiding in her about such things had meant so much. Yet, on the morning of what she considered their most profound breakthrough, he had chosen to abandon her due to some misplaced sense of humiliation. Well, that would simply not do!

Reaching over, Christine grabbed her cell phone off the nightstand, quickly typing him a text message. She considered calling, but Erik might be in a meeting, or still feeling too raw to answer…so a text would have to do.

 _*Erik, you have nothing at all to feel embarrassed about. Not one thing you said caused me to think any less of you, in fact, every word you told me last night only made me care for, and admire, you more. Please don't let this be a stumbling block for us…but instead a step in the right direction. I will be standing at the door when you get home with a smile and a kiss. Don't keep me waiting.*_

Christine balanced the phone on her drawn up knees and waited, wondering how long it might take him to see her message, read it, and then decide to respond. She didn't have to wait long before she heard a blessed beep. Touching the screen, she anxiously read his reply.

 _*Thank you. Your words mean the world to me. I will be home as quickly as possible, and I greatly look forward to seeing your smile and receiving your generous kiss. I do not deserve you. Your Erik*_

"Yes… _you're_ _all mine_ ," Christine whispered with a wide smile, before flipping back the covers and scrambling out of bed. The sooner she got the day started, the quicker it would fly by and she would be back in Erik's arms…right where she belonged.

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The first half of the day whizzed by, with her still riding high on Erik's note and text. When lunchtime arrived, Christine bought two deli sandwiches, a bottle of water, and an extra-large frothy coffee for Amir, heading out to his usual bench with a big grin on her face. When she drew near, she held out the coffee without a word, causing him to reach out and take it rather suspiciously.

"What's this for?" he questioned. "What devious thing do you wish for me to do now?"

"I resent that!" she laughed. "Can't a girl just bring her bodyguard a gift? Must there always be ulterior motives?"

"With you…yes," he informed her, still eyeing her skeptically.

"Well, not this time," she said with a harrumph, plopping down beside him and throwing her arms around his shoulders, planting a loud kiss on his cheek.

"WHOA THERE!" he protested, pulling away so quickly that he almost spilled his coffee. "What are you trying to do…get us both killed?"

" _That_ was a thank you kiss," she explained, slapping him playfully on the shoulder. "Don't go getting a swelled head or anything, I'm not after your body."

"Well I should hope not!" he huffed, checking his pant legs to make sure none of the coffee had spilled on them. "Besides, Erik might like the cheeky kind, but I say you're a lot more trouble than you're worth."

"Oh, you love me and you know it," she grinned, reaching into her paper sack and pulling out the deli item she had bought for him. "And here's a hero sandwich, for being such a hero to Erik all those years ago."

"A what?" Amir questioned, taking the sandwich with a confused look on his face.

"A hero! For saving Erik from being tortured and killed," she explained.

"He told you how we first met?" Now Amir was shocked. "I can't believe that sorry sod actually listened to me for once!"

"Yep," Christine nodded, a mixture of satisfaction and regret in her eyes. "And while I am forever in your debt for what you did for Erik…I'm very sorry for what it cost you to do so. That was very brave…and honorable, Amir. Thank you."

The Persian was silent for a bit, apparently torn about how to respond. In the end, he reached out and patted her hand in a comforting gesture.

"It was the right thing to do," he admitted, not mentioning the emotional costs. "I could no longer stay there knowing what my family was doing, and saving Erik was just the catalyst I needed to push me to do what I'd been avoiding up until then. It was a good thing I left…it was even a better thing that I teamed up with Erik in doing so. We've done pretty well for ourselves since then, and I don't regret a thing." He then got a rather silly grin on his face. "Well…some things I regret. Like ever starting a running bet with him, or loaning him my car that time, or stitching up his chest wound…you know he still whines like a little girl about how big his scar is!"

"With all the bickering you two do, I'm shocked you've stayed together this long," Christine laughed.

"Oh, there's some advantages to hanging with Erik," he said with a shrug. "I mean, the man is a freaking financial genius, when he sets his mind to something. We arrived in this country with nothing but the shirts on our backs, and now look at us…sitting pretty if you ask me. I've never been good at saving money, I'm more of the mind to spend it, but as long as I keep working with Erik, I know I'm set for life."

"I think Erik values your friendship as well," Christine assured him.

"Did he actually _say_ that?" Amir asked, looking somewhat skeptical.

"Well…not in so many words," she admitted. "But a girl can tell these things." Christine laughed, causing Amir to hum skeptically. "And even if he won't ever say it, I appreciate what you did, and what you do, very much. If you hadn't stepped in back then…well, I would never have met him. And I would consider that a bitter tragedy."

"Ahhhh, starting to warm up to the cold fish, are ya?" Amir presumed, waggling his eyebrows up and down suggestively. "And here I thought it might never happen."

"Well…it's taken a while, but you know what they say, anything worth having is worth waiting for," she quoted.

"That it is," he mused, his mind temporarily wandering somewhere else…and Christine figured she could guess where. _To Antoinette._

"You know, Amir, no one says you can't find love too," she hinted, doing her best to leave a certain legal council's name out of it.

"And who says I won't?" Amir demanded, looking miffed. "Was it Erik? That rotten little buttinski!"

"No, Erik never said anything of the sort, I was just saying that somewhere, out there, might be the woman of your dreams, just waiting for you to come along and sweep her off her feet," Christine explained.

"Really? Well, who knows, maybe you're right," he said in a hopeful tone, turning his attention back to the sandwich she had brought him. "Does this have mustard on it?"

"Of course not, I know you hate mustard," she informed him.

"Thank you!" he said, his tone sounding as if he were just vindicated. "At least _someone_ cares enough to notice things like that!" And then giving her a wink, he bit into the sandwich with gusto.

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Christine knew she still had two more days to practice her dancing with Meg before the big charity ball, but in truth she was feeling rather confident about the steps. However, there was no sense in getting cocky, right? When she entered the practice room, she found Meg sitting on the bench typing furiously on her cell phone, completely unaware that Christine had arrived.

"Hello? Earth to Meg," she chuckled, watching her friend jump at her voice. "It looked like you were typing out secret military codes to the enemy with as serious as you appeared."

"Yep, you caught me," she giggled nervously. "Super Spy Meg, ready to take down the government," her friend grinned, shoving her phone into her bag and standing up. "Are you ready to dance?" she asked, acting overly excited about the prospect.

"Ummm, yes," Christine said hesitantly. "Is everything all right, Meg? You seem…well, on edge a bit."

"Nope, I'm great!" she insisted. "Now, let's go over the tango a few times and then we can work on the waltz."

Christine still felt as if Meg was hiding something from her, but she didn't want to pry, so instead she followed her friend onto the dance floor.

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Their hour of practice went by swiftly, with Christine doing a very fine job of keeping up with the energetic ballerina. Yet, when Meg's phone beeped for the tenth time, with her doing her best to act as if she had no interest in who was texting her, Christine called for a time out.

"Meg, for heaven's sake, just go answer your phone," she insisted. "Whoever it is won't give up until you do, and it's driving me crazy!"

Meg gave a defeated sigh and marched over to the bench, sat down and did indeed check her messages, her face growing more and more concerned with each text she read. Unable to stand it any longer, Christine came over and sat down beside her friend, wrapping her arm around her shoulders encouragingly.

"Meg…what's the matter? Is something wrong?" she asked, not wanting to pry, but also wishing to help if she could. "You can tell me."

"Well…in truth, I kind of _have_ to tell you," she lamented, laying down her phone and turning to stare at Christine with worried eyes. "Since you'll undoubtedly find out on Saturday."

"On Saturday?" she questioned. "Saturday is the charity ball." Christine's eyes then grew wide with horror. "I suck, don't I? That's it, I'm horrible at dancing and you've been lying to me all this time about being able to dance well enough not to embarrass myself! That's it, isn't it?"

"No, no, not at all," Meg was quick to reassure her. "You truly are doing great, you have nothing to worry about."

"Then what? What will I find out about on Saturday?" she pressed.

"You'll find out that…that…I kind of have a boyfriend," she confessed, cringing just a bit as if she expected her to object.

"YOU DO?" Christine squealed, grabbing hold of her arm in excitement. "When…how…did you find that stick and throw it like I suggested?"

"No, there was no stick involved," she chuckled. "He…he saw me dance at the recital and showed up at the after party. We got to talking and well…one thing led to another, and we exchanged numbers."

"You've been seeing him for nearly two weeks and _this_ is the first time I'm hearing about it?" Christine gasped. "Meg! I thought we were friends!"

"We are! Or at least I hope we still can be after I tell you the rest," she moaned, leaning back against the wall and shutting her eyes.

"Meg…" Christine began, her tone now one of concern. "What did you do? You and he didn't…you know…"

"NO WAY!" Meg was quick to assure her. "Not till there's a diamond ring on this finger!" she stated firmly, holding up her hand and pointing to her naked digit.

"Then what are you so worried about?" Christine demanded. "And why do I need to know about him before Saturday? Tell me, Meg, before I imagine any more horrible things."

"Well, the reason you need to know before then, is because he invited me to go to the charity ball with him," her friend confessed.

"He did? Well that's great!" she smiled. "He must be rather well off if he can afford two tickets!" Yet her expression of joy quickly faded when she saw that Meg did not appear happy about it. "Or maybe that's not so great? Don't you want to go with him?"

"Oh, yes, more than anything! I've never felt like this about anyone, Chris. He's just so…so…perfect!" she stammered. "He's all I can think of, I want to be with him all the time, and he's got me so twitterpated that I've even been eating carbs! Honest to goodness _carbs_!"

"Well…that _is_ serious," Christine snickered, doing her best to sound supportive. "But I still don't see the downside here."

"The downside is…he's _your_ ex-boyfriend!" Meg blurted out, burying her face in her hands.

"RAOUL?" Christine gasped. "You're dating Raoul Chaney?"

"Yes," Meg cringed.

"Oh…" was all she could think to reply. This was not good, not good at all! While Raoul was a nice enough guy - cheating on her at the prom notwithstanding - Christine couldn't help but wonder what it was that made him single out Meg. Was he buddying up to her friend in order to get dirt on her and Erik? He _was_ working for the FBI…had they somehow put him up to it? If so, she would literally knock his block off! She needed to learn more. "So…how did you find out that he and I once dated?"

"He confessed it to me the other night," she said. "He told me that he couldn't keep it a secret any more…not since he…well, he said he was having very strong feelings for me, and he didn't want there to be any secrets between us."

"Well, that's admirable," she nodded, glad that he had come clean and Meg hadn't found out on her own.

"He's been pestering me to tell you about us too, saying that he was not comfortable having you find out the night of the ball," Meg continued. "That's what all those texts were about. He kept asking if I had told you yet." She then reached out and put her hand over Christine's, looking at her friend with desperation in her eyes. "You…you don't hate me, do you? I know it's like a cardinal sin to date your best friend's ex…but…but I reeeeeeealy like him!"

"Your best friend?" Christine was shocked. She liked Meg a lot, and they always had a great time together, but _best_ friends? She was quite touched.

"Well yah…unless I've just screwed that all up. Did I?" she asked, cringing a bit as if she feared her answer.

"No…of course not," Christine assured her, giving her a big hug. "Raoul and I were never meant to be a couple…we were more friends than anything else. And if you two have hit it off…well who am I to stand in your way."

"Really?" Meg squealed, a huge grin spreading over her face. "You truly don't mind? And you won't stop being my friend if I keep dating him?"

"No, of course not," she assured her, thinking that Meg must really have it bad. "Just don't rush things, after all, you've only known him for two weeks."

"Well, you married _your_ husband after only knowing him a month," Meg pointed out.

"Now don't you go using me as a basis for how to court a man!" Christine warned. "Our situation was…well… _unique_." Yes, that was a good word for it. Unique.

"Fine, I was only teasing," Meg snickered. "I would never jump into anything so serous without completely thinking it through. Besides, he hasn't even met my mother yet, and chances are she'll interrogate him within an inch of his life and he'll disappear in a puff of smoke."

"Well…Raoul is tougher than he looks," Christine told her, doing her best to sound supportive, though in her heart she was torn. She really needed to get Raoul alone and grill him personally! "And you two will be going to the ball together? What costumes are you wearing?"

"I don't know yet," Meg admitted. "Raoul said he would take care of everything, since he kind of asked me on such short notice. He didn't want to stress me out…and I would have too, so really, he's doing me a big favor by handling it all."

"That's Raoul…the proverbial knight in shining armor," Christine nodded, recalling all the nice and thoughtful things he had done for her while they were dating. He really was a very nice guy…which made it even more difficult to believe that he might be dating Meg for nefarious reasons. "I'm sure he'll pick out something fun."

"I hope so!" she said, her eyes taking on a dreamy look. "I'm just so happy I could…well…dance!"

"Well, you'll get enough of that at the ball," Christine agreed. "And really, I _am_ very happy for the both of you. You can tell Raoul I'm all right with the idea of you dating."

"I'm so glad, I've been worried sick ever since he told me, wondering what you'd say," Meg acknowledged, her fears now thankfully set to rest. "Would you mind us stopping a bit early today, so I can call Raoul and tell him the good news?"

"No, that's fine," Christine assured her. "I should be off to Leathwood myself. Go call your man."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Meg squealed once more, grabbing her phone and dialing his number…one she apparently already knew by heart.

Giving her friend one final smile, Christine stood up and turned to go, just as Raoul picked up.

"Raoul…I've got great news!" was the last thing Christine heard before shutting the door behind her.

Once she was outside in the hallway, Christine leaned her back against the wall and let out a deep sigh. What was she going to do? She couldn't let Meg's heart be broken on _her_ account, and that was exactly what would happen if Raoul was indeed spending time with her only to glean information. Yet neither could she try and talk Meg out of seeing him, especially without knowing the whole story!

Pushing off the wall, she began to walk towards the exit, hoping that a visit with her father would help her think of something.

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Erik had been in a foul mood when he arrived at work, causing Antoinette to give him a wide berth most of the day. Yet, as five o'clock approached, his temperament seemed to improve, leaving Mrs. Giry to conclude that he was looking forward to going home to see Christine.

"Knock, knock," she called, poking her head inside the door cautiously. "Are you busy?"

"No more than usual," he replied, his attention glued to his laptop, not even looking up as she entered.

"I've had another fifteen responses to the invitations today," she announced, adding them to the stack of envelopes on the end of his desk. "I think this will be the best turnout the ball has ever had, and with Christine's idea about the guest buying more chances to vote for their favorite costumes, we stand to raise a very substantial amount for charity. You might even be nominated for humanitarian of the year for this."

"Oh, God, I hope not!" Erik moaned. He was still not used to being in the limelight, at least not for good deeds.

"Oh, come on, just think, you're practically Batman," she laughed, watching him stare at her as if she were insane. "You know, you're dark and moody, you drive cool cars, your office is practically a cave, you have secret tunnels and stuff, and you wear a…" here she stopped short, changing her mind at the last second. "…you wear black all the time. See…Batman."

"I hardly think the analogy fits," he huffed. "And trust me…Amir is no Alfred." He then sat back and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "If I must be likened to a super hero…I would say I am more like Iron Man."

"Really?" Antoinette chuckled. "How so?"

"I am rich, a genius, have a rapier wit, am a philanthropist, and I have a lovely lady waiting for me at home…just like Pepper Potts," Erik explained, smiling proudly.

"All right…I can see it," she laughed, rather enjoying this side of her boss. Things had certainly changed since Christine came along. Antoinette only hoped it would last. "Oh…and I thought I should let you know that Meg will be coming to the ball as well."

"That's fine, just add one more ticket for her and charge it to Phantom Industries. I am certain there are a few seats left," he then eyed the stack of RSVPs, and wondered if he was correct in that.

"Well, actually she already _has_ a ticket," Antoinette informed him, sitting down in the chair in front of the desk in a bit of a huff. "She was invited by someone who is already attending, and he's paying for her dinner."

"Oh? Meg landed herself a rich man?" Erik was suddenly very interested. "Who might he be?"

"I don't know," came Antoinette's rather disgruntled reply. "She won't tell me anything about him, other than he's a real dream. Meg says I can meet him at the ball, and not before."

"Ahh, a mystery man," Erik nodded. "Might she be worried you will not approve? Maybe he's years older than her? Perhaps he has a shady reputation, or a questionable job?" He had only been teasing, but from the irritated glare Antoinette was now giving him, he didn't think she saw the humor in it. He was about to retract his words, when she spouted off with a few of her own.

"Oh, I highly doubt that's the case," Antoinette stated standing up and stomping towards the door. "Since Christine's already snatched _you_ up!" And with that she exited the room, leaving Erik stunned at his normally respectful legal aid. Still…he couldn't find a reason to be upset with her words. For yes, Christine had already snatched him up…and he couldn't have been happier.

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Meanwhile, at Leathwood, Christine had poured her heart out to her father, going back and forth about what to do. Should she tell Meg to stay away from him, on the slim chance that Raoul _was_ playing her…or speak to Raoul directly and threaten him within an inch of his life if he hurt her friend? She went on and on about the pros and cons to both choices, but each one had their own dangers. If she told Meg that she suspected Raoul was only seeing her because he wished to glean information about her and Erik, she ran the risk of hurting her and possibly losing her friendship in the process. Yet, if she confronted Raoul, and Erik found out, well, she ran the risk of losing her husband… _or Raoul losing a few of his front teeth_. Either way Meg would not be happy.

"Papa, I don't know what to do!" Christine moaned, laying her head down on his knees, wishing he could tell her the way to go. Yet the next moment her head snapped up, looking at him with great anticipation. "Maybe you _can_ tell me what to do! I know that neither choice is perfect…but of the two, which one should I go with?" She reached out and took his hand in hers, holding it lightly and staring him in the eyes. "If you think I should tell Meg to steer clear of Raoul…move your fingers." She waited, anxious for any sign at all. When a full minute went by with nothing, Christine tried again. "All right, if you think I should go talk to Raoul in person about all this…move your fingers." Again, she waited…yet when nothing happened this time, she was really confused. "Are you saying there's another option? That I should just do nothing?" Almost instantly she felt his fingers wiggle beneath her palm, causing her to give a heavy sigh of defeat. "You know that's my least favorite thing to do! I need to do _something_!" This time, Charles' eyes moved from the left to the right, mimicking a head shaking the word no. "Papa! While I am beyond delighted that you are answering me…can't you do so in a more noncommittal way?" When he made the motion with his eyes again, she gave a sigh of resignation. "Fine! If you think it's best."

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When Christine left a little later, wishing to be home before Erik, she was not exactly happy. Why did her father have to be so darn practical? _Do nothing_ , he said. That course of action would drive her insane. So, when she passed the receptionist's desk on her way out, and spotted the house phone sitting on the counter, an idea began to form in her mind. It was not one she was particularly proud of…but the need to know what Raoul was up to was eating away at her. Rushing forward, she approached the front desk before she had a chance to change her mind.

"May I use your phone?" Christine asked the woman politely, getting an affirmative response. "Thank you. I'll be quick." She then dug into her purse, and pulled out her cell, looking up the number Raoul had given her the day he came by the house. "Well, here goes nothing." Dialing on the house phone, she waited as it rang a few times before his familiar voice answered.

"Raoul Chaney speaking," his smooth tone replied.

"Raoul…this is Christine," she stated, not bothering with any pleasantries. "We need to talk."

"Christine, how good to hear from you," he said, his voice going up an octave, as if he were suddenly a bit nervous. "Meg told me she spoke with you about us…and that you weren't upset. Was that not true?"

"That all depends on what you have to say for yourself when we speak…in person!" she wanted to look him in the eye when she asked her questions, knowing that she could tell if he was lying. It was his whole good-guy complex…he just couldn't be dishonest when looking a girl in the eye.

"Whatever you say, Christine," Raoul agreed, not sounding happy about it though. "I don't want there to be any hard feelings between you and me…and I really, really like Meg."

"Of course you do! She's an absolute doll!" Christine told him. "You would be a fool not to like her. But I still need you to convince me of your motives. Will you meet with me tomorrow?"

"Yes…just tell me when and where," he said, obviously eager to satisfy her curiosity.

"Tomorrow at three-thirty," Christine began, thinking quickly. She would have to skip her final practice with Meg, but this was an emergency! Now…where to meet? It would have to be someplace they could have accidentally run into each other, someplace they might both have a reason to be. Then it came to her! "Meet me at the costume shop on Fourteenth Street, right next to the Starbucks coffee." With the ball coming up, no one would think anything of two old friends accidentally meeting at a costume shop, would they?

"I know the place, I'll be there," Raoul promised.

"Good…I have to go now, but I'll see you tomorrow. And don't you dare breathe a word of this to Meg, do you hear?" she warned before hanging up the phone.

There, it was done. Now Christine just had to figure out a way to do it all without Erik finding out. She felt her stomach clench in a big knot, the guilt and worry about deceiving her husband already beginning to eat away at her. But desperate times called for desperate measures…right? Still, this was going to take some careful planning, and with Amir tailing her wherever she went…at least a dozen cups of sweetened coffee!

* * *

 **Oh, sweetie...it's gunna take more than sweet coffee to convince Amir that THIS is a good idea!**

 **Christine should take her father's advice and LET IT ALONE. But nope, she is worried about Meg, thus she is running headlong into trouble.**

 **Erik is Iron Man? *snicker***

 **Did you like her chit chat with Amir? He did deserve that hero sandwich, without mustard. ha ha.**

 **And Poor Erik, so embarrassed that he had to leave early and write her a note. Good thing she texted and set him straight.**

 **See you on Monday!**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **PG4044** : My promise of more drama wasn't SUPPOSED to sooth your doubt. ha ha. Yes, Christine did forgive him and she got a bit of information she desperately needed out of the deal too. Amir IS the best! Thanks.

 **Guest:** Glad you liked it. I do try very hard to make it believable, and thanks for your commendation. If you will continue to follow...I will continue to write. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Guest:** Thanks. Backstory is always fun, and since it involved both Erik and Amir, it was twice as much fun! Glad you are always excited to see a new chapter! I'm equally excited to post them. Thanks.

 **Cayla: (chapter 41)** Christine is indeed ready to hit the road...but hopefully no more trees. ha ha. Erik loves it when she pops in to say Hi at work. Date night was fun, until that horrible end, that is. ha ha. The reason I went with La Boheme was because I looked up to see what was playing at the Met right now, and that was on the schedule! Art copying real life, ha ha. Gerald is a good friend, he is loyal to Erik but sympathetic to Christine's situation too. Yes, what IS Erik doing when he runs off like this? Hmmmmm. **(Chapter 42)** Erik and Amir banter is my bread and butter! ha ha. I do try and mix things up, can't have it too close to what happened in other stories, including mine. Once bit, a million times shy, or at least that was how it was with Erik. Yep, not only did she scream...but she called him a monster and lied to her dad about what he did. Yes, I think if she only knew how rich Erik was now, she WOULD come try and re-connect. But I really think Erik would be smart enough to shoot her down right away. No second chances for her! Amir would be firmly against it as well. Amir is the best, right. Funny, hot, and a true hero. Antoinette better snap him up! so glad you got the visual of him as he stood up for what was right. No flinching for him. Thanks so much.

 **GuestWraithSnake:** Ok, first of all I had to laugh...a lot...since your device changed FP to PP and you called me PP33. ha ha. Once my fingers missed the keys I wanted, and I signed off as FPee. That was funny too. I did put that 'point of no return' in there as a nod to the musical. ha ha. Yes, Erik is starting to open up...maybe not about showing her his face just yet...but about other things. The Tango is coming soon, because the ball is quickly approaching. I like your description...a "wow, mama, looky, looky" moment. ha ha. Too cute. Thanks.

 **GuestRP:** (I'm going to assume this review was the 'guest' one you meant, since it got cut off in mid-sentence) And you may borrow Erik's lasso any time you want, you just have to get it back to him before midnight...that's when he does his best stalking. ha ha. Bad girls prey on sweet innocent lambs like Erik, right? *snicker* Erik a sweet lamb. Ha ha. Erik did some naughty things, but he was indeed a spy and a trickster, not an assassin. Now I'm not going to go so far as to say he didn't do damage...or even kill...but we will leave that to the mysteries of his past and not delve in tooo deep. Roshni did play poor Erik for a fool though, to the hilt. I answered the mask question at the start, hope that satisfied. Yes...that was the reason he gave for all this "so he could have Christine". But why? You will find out. Amir and Antoinette both deserve each other...and love. Like I said, you can borrow his lasso...but NOT his spoon! ha ha. Thanks.

 **Guest:** Yep, told all the backstory! Well not ALL, but the important stuff. *Erik lays on a couch, and starts to tell you all his problems* The dance is coming! But lots of drama to get through before that. Thanks.

 **Kristin:** Roshni is a rat! Erik built Phantom Industries with his smarts, his bare hands, and maybe a bit of nefarious deals. ha ha. Oh, and Amir helped him. Thanks!


	44. Chapter 44

.

 **Monday! Enough said.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 44**

 **~X~**

* * *

Erik pulled into the garage, turned off his car and made his way to the side door, both anxious and nervous about what he would find. Christine's text had done wonders for his disposition, yet facing her again was still going to be difficult. He had always tried to appear strong in front of her, never wanting his wife to see the vulnerable side he kept buried deep within…yet last night, Christine had been witness to it, in all its hideous glory.

Still, Amir had been right about telling her of his past, perhaps he was also correct about Erik not underestimating Christine's compassion. She had been rather forgiving so far…might he hope that pattern would continue?

As Erik opened the door, stepping inside with a measure of caution, he was instantly assaulted by his adorable wife launching herself across the room and into his arms. Wrapping herself around him like a clinging vine, she kissed him soundly on the lips, pulling back as she gave him a wide smile.

"Welcome home, darling!" she greeted him. "Did you miss me?"

"More than you will ever know," Erik whispered, bending his head down so that he could sample her lips once more. Oh, this was more than he had ever hoped for…and certainly more than he deserved. It had been difficult for him to divulge his past to her last night, but if this was his reward for baring his soul, he might be willing to do so more often.

At last the kiss ended, though not their happy mood.

"It was lonely waking up without you," Christine confessed, taking him by the arm and leading him to the sun room, where she forced him to sit on the sofa, snuggling up next to him as she continued speaking. "The rose and the note were nice…but I missed getting my good morning kiss."

"A thousand apologies, my dear," Erik told her, reaching out and tipping her chin up so that he might rectify that oversight. "It might be a bit late, but far be it from me to deprive you…or me…of such pleasures."

Once he had bestowed yet another delightful kiss upon his wife, she curled up against him, just enjoying the feel of him beside her.

"And how was your day?" she questioned.

"Long and dull without you," Erik replied. "And your day?"

"The same," Christine told him, though she thought one part had been rather exciting…but she was not about to mention the fact that Meg was dating Raoul. At least not yet. First she needed to find out if it was all legit, or if it was instead a ploy to spy on her and Erik. Then she would confess her deceit…and just pray that he could find it in his heart to forgive her. Oh, she just felt terrible about deceiving him this way!

"Then what say we brighten things up with some time in the music room before dinner?" Erik suggested. "I have been quite lax in my duties by letting our practice slide a bit since your recital, and I very much desire to hear you sing for me."

"Oh, yes please!" Christine beamed, always loving their music lessons.

"Shall we then?" Erik offered, standing up and holding out his hand.

"We shall," she grinned, taking his hand with no hesitation and allowing him to lead her through the house.

.

.

After a very enjoyable hour or so of music, Mrs. Murphy had announced that dinner was ready, urging them to head to the dining room. While they ate, they continued their pleasurable conversation, yet by the time desert was served Christine's mind had become focused on how she was going to arrange to meet Raoul the next day without anyone becoming the wiser. Then she got an idea.

"Erik…is Amir going to be at the charity ball?" she questioned, trying not to let her voice sound suspicious.

"Of course he will," Erik informed her. "Do you think I would give your bodyguard the night off, especially when you will be out in public? Anything could happen!"

"And what will his costume be?" she continued, pleased by Erik's answer.

"His costume?" This caused Erik to look up from his meal, his eyes a bit confused.

"Well, it _is_ a costume ball…wouldn't he look strange showing up dressed like he usually does?" Christine asked.

"He dresses so odd anyway, that no one would even notice," Erik said with a shrug of his shoulders, continuing with his meal.

"Well, I think he needs a costume," she stated. "In fact, I've been meaning to get myself some of those fish-net stockings, so maybe I'll stop by the shop tomorrow and pick out something for him to wear while I'm at it."

"Very well…just be sure to make it something embarrassing," Erik grinned, giving Christine a sly wink.

"I will do no such thing…well, unless all the non-embarrassing costumes have already been taken," she giggled, causing Erik's grin to grow wider. "What is Antoinette dressing as?"

"Hmmm, I do not know," he admitted, trying to recall if she had mentioned that to him. "I did hear her say something to Elizabeth about a kimono and chopsticks for her hair."

"So, an Oriental theme then," Christine mused. Now that was something she could work with!

.

.

Once dinner was over, the two retired to the entertainment room, with Christine choosing a western from Erik's array of movies.

"Are you sure you wish to watch this?" Erik asked, eyeing the case skeptically. "I never pegged you as the cowgirl type."

"Not usually, but come on…it has Chris Pratt in it!" she giggled, returning to the couch and plopping down next to him.

"And this actor appeals to you?" Erik asked, not liking the idea at all.

"No more than any other, I guess," she said with a shrug. When she noticed the frown on his face she gave a little laugh. "Now, don't be jealous of a man I'm never going to meet, and probably wouldn't give me the time of day even if we did."

"Then Chris Pratt is a fool," Erik huffed.

"Could be, but again, I'm never going to be finding out, now am I?" She then grabbed the bowl of popcorn out of Erik's hands and rested her feet on the coffee table. "Now…hit the play button and let's get this movie started."

"Yes, ma'am," Erik chuckled, loving the way Christine always seemed so enthusiastic about everything.

.

.

By the time the credits began to roll up the screen, Christine was sound asleep, her head resting on a pillow in Erik's lap. Taking the remote, he pressed stop and then the power button, effectively ending their movie night…and yet, Erik had all the entertainment he needed stretched out before him. His wife always looked so angelic when she slept, often causing him to forget that she also had a will of iron, and a sharp tongue when needed. He loved that about her as well.

It suddenly occurred to Erik that this was the first time he'd ever had a woman fall asleep on his lap before. Yes, Christine had slept beside him, also with her head resting on his chest…but that had been in bed, where one was _meant_ to sleep. Yet here, on the sofa in front of the TV, this showed a level of trust and comfort that he had never dreamed possible. It was very nice.

Erik's mind drifted to the three other women he had known over the years. Roshni had been by far the worst, and while the other two were nothing like her, he had never felt a hint of affection for them either. Erik had been twenty-five before he built up enough self-confidence to attempt to sample the pleasures of the flesh again, as well as for the opportunity to present itself.

He and Amir had been in the states for nearly two years, and they were making quite a name for themselves in certain circles. At one point, they had done a job for a rich widow named Monique, who hired them to take care of a sensitive matter her late husband had left unfinished, before he passed away rather unexpectedly. When it was completed, she had asked Erik to meet with her privately at her lavish home, in order to pay him. Well, he soon found out that money was not the only thing Monique wished to reward him with, and when it became clear what she was offering…Erik didn't say no.

Yet, to her credit, she did not comment on his mask, allowing Erik to keep it on throughout their encounter. She was a bit older than him, what one might consider a cougar these days, but far from unattractive. Monique also looked nothing like Roshni, with long blond hair, pale skin, and a slight southern accent. The best thing, however, was that she intended to move to the west coast, ensuring that he would not be running into her on a regular basis.

Even though she obviously possessed great skill in the art of sex, Erik did not recall his first time with Monique being anything spectacular, though it was not completely unpleasant either…simply awkward. It served its purpose however, allowing him to at last know what all the fuss was about, as well as relieving a great deal of stress he had been bottling up for a good many years. Still, when the act was completed they did not cuddle, or engage in conversation, Monique only smiled, gave him the money she had promised, and Erik had left.

Over the next several years Erik visited Monique in California a few times, the two of them revisiting their need for release, yet never forming an emotional attachment. They did not talk about personal matters, only current events, the weather, and then usually just got down to business, so to speak. Erik preferred it that way, and Monique appeared to as well. Yet when he read in the society column that she was planning to remarry, Erik broke off all contact, wishing her happiness in her new life.

A few years passed before Erik chose to engage in such activities again. Granted, he was now rich enough to afford even the most high-priced call girls, but the thought repulsed him. He also prided himself on his ability to control any urges he was sometimes plagued with, never allowing his desires to push him into doing something he would later regret. Still, during a lucrative business venture oversees, he met a woman who appeared intrigued by his mystery and power, and Erik once again took advantage of the offer she had generously made him. Her name was Hanaco Yamashita, an only child who had inherited her family's fortune and was taking Japan's business world by storm. She was shrewd, knew what she wanted in life, and was not afraid of going after it.

Hanaco, though hard as nails, had a softer side she chose to keep hidden, and saw Erik as a pleasant means of distraction, with no strings attached. From the start, Erik had been very careful to practice safe sex, never wishing to run the risk of contracting anything…or fathering a child. He would also occasionally have himself tested, making sure that he, and any he might sleep with, were safe. The last time he had been checked was five months ago, and he had not been to see Hanaco in over a year, the two of them far too busy of late to schedule any time to meet up.

Looking back, Erik had to wonder if in truth it had anything to do with his growing dissatisfaction with the lack of connection those rendezvous had offered. His times with her were pleasurable, but left him feeling empty and hollow, desiring something that he knew he could never receive from such a businesslike relationship. Even if he had never dreamed that having a true wife and a real home was possible, Erik couldn't deny that deep down he had always wanted exactly that. And as he stared down at the lovely creature resting in his lap…he knew he would never desire any woman again but her.

As he watched Christine sleep, Erik felt deep regret that he had not refrained, that she would not be _his_ first, just as he would be hers. If only he had known, he would have waited forever. Yet the idea made him laugh, for never in a million years would he have dreamed that he would be here, with a woman such as Christine, sleeping on his lap. The past several months had been nothing short of miraculous, fulfilling nearly every wild fantasy Erik's younger self had never believed possible. That was what had driven him to accept those other women, the belief that he was too damaged…to broken, to ever have a wife of his own…and yet, here she was.

While Erik knew he would regret every moment spent in the arms of those other women, he could rest assured that Christine would be the _last_ women he would ever sleep with…and the _first_ that Erik would ever truly make love to. _Love_ …it was such a small word, and yet to him it meant so much. It was the one thing that had eluded him throughout his life, the one thing his vast wealth and power had failed to obtain over the past thirty-eight years. Yet now, within his grasp was his heart's desire…his Christine, and Erik was not about to let her slip away. _Ever!_

Leaning down he kissed her cheek, causing her to stir, her eyes opening as she blessed him with a sleepy smile.

"Is the movie over?" she asked, stretching her legs and arms like a lazy kitten.

"Yes, the heroes rode off into the sunset," Erik informed her, assisting her to sit up. "Shall we do the same? Though by riding off, I mean walking up the stairs, and by sunset, I mean our bedroom."

"That sounds so far away," she pouted, laying back down on the sofa with a yawn. "Can't we just sleep here?"

"I am afraid I would not fit, my dear," Erik chuckled. "Yet, never let it be said that I left a damsel in distress." And scooping her up in his arms, he headed for the stairs, flipping off the lights as he went.

"Well, I rather like this," Christine smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning her head on his shoulder as they went.

When they arrived at the bedroom, Erik set her down on her feet ever so gently.

"Now, are you awake enough to get changed…or do you need assistance in that as well," he offered, a slight quirk at the corner of his lips. "For I would be more than happy to aid you in that endeavor."

"Oh, I think I can manage," she assured him with an equally sly grin. "You just worry about yourself…I'll be perfectly fine." And with a small laugh she disappeared into her bathroom, leaving a somewhat disappointed Erik behind.

"Well…it was worth a shot," he said with a shrug, heading off to get ready for bed as well.

.

.

The next day at breakfast Erik informed Christine that he would need Gerald and the limo once again, offering to drop her off at school and having Amir drive her to Leathwood and then home afterwards.

"And to the costume shop," she reminded him, not wanting Erik to forget that. "I need to get those stockings and a costume for Amir."

"Oh, yes, I do recall that," he nodded. "I am certain he will not mind an extra stop."

"I just hope he won't baulk about wearing whatever I find for him, he seems the fussy type when it comes to certain things," she mused.

"You have no idea," Erik told her with a roll of his eyes.

.

.

All day Christine went over and over in her mind what she planned to say to Raoul when she saw him. She didn't want to come across as some jealous ex-girlfriend, or give the impression that she was so full of herself that the only reason she could imagine him dating Meg was to spy on her…but she really _had_ to know! It would just kill her if Raoul broke her friend's heart, especially if it was somehow because of her.

At three, Christine found Meg and explained her need to do some last-minute shopping for the ball, before heading out to meet with Amir. He was parked in the same place that Gerald usually chose, making it easy to find him and his newly repaired car.

"Wow…you can't even tell I dented it!" Christine said, rubbing her hand over where the tree had originally left its impression.

"And since you have your own set of wheels now, I don't see it happening again," he told her. "Now, hop in, and let's get you to see your father."

"Actually, I need to make one quick stop first," she informed him, sliding into the passenger seat. "I told Erik I had to find something for my costume, and that I would need to stop by the same shop we went to last week."

"Very well, your wish is my command," he nodded, pulling out into traffic as he headed for the little store.

.

.

Once they arrived, Amir parked a few spaces down from the costume shop, reaching for the handle to get out and escort her inside.

"Ummm, you don't have to go with me, you know," she stated. "I'm just going to buy some stockings…and really, do you want to be hanging around me while I do that?" She then pointed to the Starbuck's coffee place just next door. "Maybe you can go get us a couple of flavored coffees, and I'll be out in a jiffy."

"All right, but only because I can still see the door to the costume shop from the coffee line," he agreed. "Just be careful…and don't talk to strangers."

"Yes, sir!" she laughed. Yet all her mirth died when she spotted Raoul making his way down the street and casually heading into the costume store. Christine cringed as she glanced over at Amir, who was glaring out the window with narrowed eyes.

"Christine…" he began in a low and dangerous tone. When he saw her look of gilt, his expression grew stern. "What have you done? You can't tell me that boy being here is a mere coincidence!"

"Umm…no…it's not," she confessed, shutting her eyes and leaning her head back against the seat. "I'm sorry, Amir…I just…well…"

"YOU WHAT?" he demanded, pointing at the shop angrily. "Tell me what he's doing here…now!"

"I asked him to meet me, because I needed to find something out," she told him, doing her best to keep the regret she was feeling out of her voice.

"What knowledge would be worth upsetting Erik…as I'm sure you know this would ultimately do!" Amir went on in a scolding tone.

"I need to know if Raoul is dating Meg because he truly likes her…or if it is just a ploy to keep tabs on me," she blurted out.

"HE'S WHAT?" Amir yelled, causing a few people walking by to look over at their car. "That jack-dandy is dating Meg? Meg Giry?"

"Do you know any other girls named Meg?" Christine asked, giving the concerned pedestrians an embarrassed smile. "And I was just as shocked by the news as you are. So, can you now understand _why_ I need to find out his reasons? I can't let him hurt Meg, but neither do I want to warn her off if he truly is in earnest." She then took a deep breath and played a card she knew would get Amir on her side. "Haven't you ever kept something from Erik, because he would totally disagree with you…but you knew deep in your heart what you were doing needed to be done?" She was referring to his intervention with Antoinette's jerk of a husband, and from the way Amir's eyes drifted off, she knew he was thinking of that situation as well.

"Damn it!" Amir growled, hitting the steering wheel with his palm in anger. "Yes…I see your point. You must protect Meg. But he better be dating her for the right reasons, even if I don't agree with it," he grumbled. "Or so help me, Erik won't be the only one who wants to string that boy up by his…"

"AMIR!" Christine scolded, stopping him before he could finish his sentence.

"Toes! I was going to say toes!" Amir protested.

"Yah…right," Christine responded, not believing him for a moment.

"Go on…get in there and grill the rat. But don't be too long, or I'll come looking for you, understand?" he warned.

"Perfectly," Christine nodded, exiting the car. Sadly she didn't feel the least bit overjoyed by her apparent victory. For by doing this, she was not only deceiving Erik…but she had now involved Amir, and that had never been her intention. She knew she should have just listened to her father.

.

.

Christine spotted Raoul the moment she stepped in, his blond hair and good looks making him stand out very easily.

"Hey, Christine!" he called, waving at her from two racks over.

"Raoul…thank you for agreeing to meet with me," she said, coming to stand by him, but not too closely.

"I really didn't have much of a choice, now did I?" he chuckled, trying to keep things light. "I got the impression if I wanted to keep seeing Meg…I had to get your approval."

"Well…you do!" she stated, her ire coming to the fore. "And you can start earning it by telling me exactly _why_ you first approached Meg."

"Well…aside from her beauty, grace, personality, and her smoking hot body," Raoul began. "I have to admit that I singled her out because I knew you two were friends."

"Ah ha!" Christine accused, poking her finger into his chest a few times. "So, you're dating Meg so you can spy on me through her! I knew it!"

"No! That's not true at all," he said defensively, rubbing his chest where she had jabbed him. "I mean, yes that was the _original_ reason I struck up a conversation with her the night of the recital. I admit that I saw her in your box across the way, and after Philippe dropped me off and went home himself, I came back and talked my way into the party. But after we got to know each other better, I realized I really did like Meg…a lot! I might have been a real jerk back in high school, Christine, but I would never toy with a woman's affections just to get information."

"You seemed to have no trouble toying with _my_ affections while kissing Trish in the broom closet," she pointed out.

"And I have never regretted anything more in my entire life," he moaned. "If I could go back in time, I would kick eighteen-year-old me right in the butt for the pain he caused you. But I promise…I've matured a lot since then, and my feelings for Meg are genuine. I haven't even asked her about you _or_ your husband since that first night, and even that was only in passing…check with Meg, she'll back me up."

"So, you truly like her, as a girlfriend, and not just an informant?" Christine asked.

"Scout's honor," he promised, holding up three of his fingers in a sign of his sincerity. "Please Christine…I really, really want to continue dating your friend without worrying that you will get upset or try and turn her against me. Meg totally freaked out when I told her that we used to date, saying that if you objected, she would have no choice but to break up with me."

"Well, apparently that _is_ part of the best friend's code," Christine sighed, still not liking this match at all, but what else could she do? "But you better swear that you are seeing her for no other reason except that you like her…and I mean _like her a lot_ , since she apparently thinks rather highly of you." She then stepped closer, gripping him by his tie and giving it a firm yank. "And if you hurt her, Raoul Chaney, that tap on the chin I gave you before will be nothing compared to what I'll do this time, got it?"

"Yes, Christine…I swear," he told her in all seriousness.

"And if _her_ threats don't sway you…perhaps mine will," Amir growled viciously from directly behind Raoul, causing the young man to jump in shock.

"CRAP, dude!" he yelped, spinning around so quickly that he was nearly choked by his own tie…since Christine had yet to let go of it. "What do you do, just follow her around wherever she goes?" Raoul demanded, doing his best to calm his racing heart as he pulled on his shirt collar just a bit.

"Pretty much," he chuckled, loving how he had spooked the boy. "So, you best watch yourself," Amir warned. "And I'll be looking out for Meg as well, understand?"

"Yah…sure…I read you both loud and clear," Raoul agreed, looking from Amir to Christine and back in what was obviously fear. "Now, if you're both done threatening me…can I go?"

"Of course, Raoul," Christine said with a devious smile, reaching out to straighten his tie in a somewhat nerve-wracking gesture. "Just remember…we'll be watching you."

With a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes, Raoul left, and not as confidently as he had arrived either. Christine wondered if he was suddenly rethinking dating Meg after all.

"Well…that went well," Amir grinned, holding up his hand as he and Christine gave each other a high five.

"Better than well, I would say we make a very good team," she agreed.

"Agreed. Shall we get going then?" Amir asked, gesturing towards the door.

"In a minute, I still have to find my stockings…and a little something else." Christine reminded him.

"I think your _little something_ _else_ just left before he pissed his pants," Amir chuckled, pleased by his joke.

"Ewww, Amir!" Christine said with a scrunched-up nose. "Go get yourself that cup of coffee over at Starbucks, and meet me in the car. I'll only be a few minutes."

"Fine, but after tricking me like you did with all this, you're buying!" he told her, holding out his hand like a teen demanding his allowance.

"Men…I swear!" she grumbled, digging into her purse and giving him a twenty-dollar bill. "And get me an iced vanilla latte too, would you?"

"Sure thing," he grinned, turning and leaving the shop.

Shaking her head in amusement, Christine headed to the back where the hosiery hung on the wall. Yet, as she did, a costume caught her eye, making her stop and take a second look. "Oh… _this_ would be perfect for Amir!" she said with a little giggle. "I have soooo got to get this!"

.

.

Amir was waiting in the car when Christine came out, her purchase tucked into a brown shopping bag. He didn't look terribly happy, which was hardly surprising, but she did her best to smile, hoping to break the ice.

"Oh, no…that might work on Erik, but not me," he stated, handing her the coffee he had purchased for her, keeping any of the change there might have been for himself. "Now that you have your answer…what do you plan on telling Erik?"

"Everything," she said with a heavy sigh. "Though I'm not looking forward to it."

"I can't imagine why," he replied sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. "It's not like he's going to flip out, or imagine all sorts of horrible things, you know."

"Do…do you think he'll forgive me?" she asked hopefully, though not sounding very confident.

Amir was quiet for a few moments, and then gave a nod of his head.

"Yes, knowing him, he will find a way to overlook this…but only if you confess everything to him before he finds out himself!" Amir warned.

"I fully intend to…honest," Christine assured him. "I'm just afraid to, is all."

"Afraid… _of Erik_? Why?" Amir narrowed his eyes a bit, suddenly worried about something he never thought he would need to be.

"Not for my safety! No, never that," she was quick to guarantee him. "But afraid of hurting his feelings. You of all people know how unsure Erik can be about things like this. He might be a genius, billionaire businessman, but when it comes to personal emotions…he's often like a small child. I never want him to think he can't trust me…but I guess I kind of screwed that up now, didn't I?"

"No, not exactly," Amir stated. "Just be honest with him, Erik still might be upset, but it won't ruin everything between you…I hope."

"Got any suggestions about how I should do it?" she asked.

"Nope. For all I care, you could write it in the sky, or send him a text," he told her. "Just as long as you do it…and before the ball! You don't want Erik blindsided by this whole Raoul and Meg thing, do you?"

"No…that would ruin the whole night," Christine agreed with a heavy sigh of resignation. "Could we go visit my father before we go home?" she pleaded. "I won't get a chance to see him tomorrow, and I should probably get in one final farewell, just in case Erik decides to lock me away in the basement for a million years."

"I wouldn't put it past him to consider it," Amir said with a chuckle, as he started the car. "But don't worry, just bat those eyelashes at him, ply him with a kiss or two, and he'll most likely forgive you. What he might _not_ forgive is finding out from someone else later on. And no one wants that…least of all me!" He reached over and patted her on the leg sympathetically. "But I'll take you to see your father, it will give you more time to think about what you'll say to Erik when you get home."

"Great…I'll consider this my final visit before my execution," she said with a heavy sigh.

"You and Erik are both so melodramatic," Amir laughed. "No wonder you two work so well together." He then gave her a wide grin accompanied by a waggle of his eyebrows. "And think of it this way…if you two get into a huge fight, just imagine how hot the make-up sex will be."

"AMIR!" Christine gasped, her face turning a deep shade of red. "I can't believe you said that! And after I bought you that coffee and everything."

"Ahh, but you also tried to trick me, and specifically disobeyed a direct order," he reminded her.

"What direct order was that?" she questioned, doing her best to recall anything Amir might have said earlier.

"Just before I spotted that boy walking into the shop, I told you not to talk to strangers…remember?" he said with a shake of his finger.

"But Raoul isn't a stranger," Christine argued.

"That's where you're wrong," Amir stated quite firmly, checking his blind spot before pulling out into traffic. "He's as strange as they get! How you were ever attracted to a jack-dandy like him, I'll never figure. You must be half insane yourself."

Christine just huffed a bit and crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the window, not quite sure if Amir was joking or not. _Oh, yah…well just wait until you see your costume, Mr. Smarty Pants,_ she thought to herself. _Then we'll see who the strange one is._

* * *

 **Well, it looks like Christine is going to be doing the honorable thing and confessing to Erik very soon. That or Amir will kick her butt. _  
_**

 **Erik was very happy to come home to a hug and a kiss, not to mention movie night.**

 **What did you think of Erik's history with women?**

 **And it would appear that Raoul IS being honest about really liking Meg...I would believe him.**

 **Guess we will just have to wait till Wednesday to find out what Erik will say or do about all this.**

 **Oh...and what costume could Christine have possibly bought for Amir? If you can guess what it is, you will win a free snippet card!**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Cayla:** Yep, Raoul and Meg will be attending! good call. Erik is never happy about anything when it comes to Raoul. ha ha. Charles and Amir should hire themselves out as life coaches...they ARE the only smart ones around. Don't go teasing Antoinette where her daughter is concerned, she will bite your head off, Erik. Thanks!

 **Guest:** No, Erik did a good thing by opening up, no need for embarrassment. Yes, but if Erik ever found out Christine touched another man, he would flip. ha ha. And I love how kindly and gently you set Meg and Raoul straight...snapping his neck though, are you channeling Erik? ha ha. Thanks.

 **Kristin:** She should just tell Erik...but where's the fun in that, and do you honestly think he would consent to her grilling Raoul about the whole Meg thing? And we NEED to know! Yah...if Raoul is hot for Meg, then Erik doens't have to worry as much...right? I hope Amir and Antoinette get together too. You know, I have a little bit of pull with the writer...I'll see what I can do. Thanks.

 **Guest:** Oh sure, make me feel bad by using Erik's song on the rooftop against me! That betrayed me part got me right in the ticker. Yes...Erik would have happily paid for a ticket for Meg. Oh, Antoinette has no trouble at times telling Erik EXACTLY what she thinks. ha ha. I think if Amir ASKS her to dance...she just might. The ball is in his court. Thanks.

 **GuestRP:** Yah, Father's are blind to their little princess' faults. Right, Christine didn't think of playing the "my X has happily moved on...aren't you glad" card. ha ha. Yes, we don't want Erik to stroke out over this. Erik already thinks Christine is trying to kill him by making him wait and wearing slinky night gowns. ha ha. The mob guys are creepy...enough said. Yep, Erik should have hung around for a good morning kiss. Daddy Daae is smart...no brain damage there! I'm so glad you liked Raoul in Siren of the Sea! And we just won't tell Phil about any of this, OK? Mum's the word. Thanks.

 **GuestWraithSnake:** It was rather amusing. The tango will be fun...or at least I thought it was, I hope you do too. Anytime you stick Raoul in, it is not good for Erik. But all the things you imagined...they don't happen, thankfully. Amir and Christine are good friends, they respect each other and share the job of watching after Erik. Thanks and see you next time! FP33

 **Guest:** If you would rather picture him that way, I don't mind. Just forget I said that! I think she probably did in the first few chapters...he's nice looking, strong jaw, etc. But you just imagine him any way you want. Thanks.

 **PG4044:** Nope, never does...or will it...or won't it? You can find out on Wednesday! It's kind of in Raoul's contract to come in and make trouble. He gets paid well for it too. Serious maracas? ha ha, that made me laugh. Thanks.


	45. Chapter 45

.

 **I am soooo much enjoying your guesses about what Amir's costume is going to be.**

 **Now, let's see how the confession goes...**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 45**

 **~X~**

* * *

After a quick trip to visit her father, telling him nothing about where she had just gone and whom she had met with, Christine and Amir headed home. Erik was just pulling up the drive as Amir helped her out of his car, offering to carry her packages inside, but she refused to let him.

"It's personal stuff," she explained, not wanting him to see the costume she got him until it was far too late to say no and find something else.

"Then you're on your own from here on out," he whispered, nodding towards Erik's car as it came into view. "And remember, don't wait too long…Erik has a way of finding things out, especially things _we_ might wish to keep secret."

"I understand," she said with a tone of defeat, watching as Amir quickly disappeared around the garage and towards his guest house.

.

.

"Why was Amir in such a hurry?" Erik asked as he came out of the garage to stand beside Christine, finding it odd that the Persian hadn't even stuck around to needle him about something.

"Ummm…he had to pee," she answered, figuring it was as good a reason as any, after all he just finished off that large cup of coffee.

"Oh…all right," Erik replied, sounding a bit uncomfortable about the direction of this inquiry. "Shall we go in then?"

"Yep," she agreed, pasting on a smile.

"Did you get your stockings?" he inquired.

"I did," she nodded.

"May I see them…on you?" he pressed, a grin on his lips.

"Not until tomorrow," she insisted. "I want you to be surprised."

"Oh, I am certain I will be," Erik chuckled. "Did you find anything else at the shop?"

"Anything else? Like what?" Christine asked, stopping in her tracks as she looked at him with wide eyes. _Did he know already?_

"Like a costume for Amir?" he prompted. "You said you would look for something for him while you were there."

"OH, right!" she said with a laugh of relief. "I did find him a costume…and I think you're going to get a real kick out of it."

"Can I see?" Erik inquired, eyeing the bag with great interest.

"No, you can't see that until tomorrow either," she said with a shake of her head. "I don't want you telling him about it just so you can have an extra few hours of teasing him. No one can know what it is until he has no other choice but to put it on."

"You are a cruel woman, Mrs. Thorn!" Erik huffed.

"Because I got him a costume, or because I won't let you see it?" she teased.

"Both…but mostly the last part," Erik admitted, his frown morphing into a sly smile once more.

.

.

The rest of their evening went well, with dinner, and then a few hours in the music room. Though Christine was putting on a convincing act…Erik could tell that something was bothering her. He had come to know her moods very well, his constant study of her revealing many of her quirks and tells. Still he also knew that she was not the kind to keep things in for long, and if he was patient just a little longer, she would confess her worries. He would simply wait her out.

.

.

Christine had tried to put the Meg and Raoul situation out of her mind, deciding to wait until they had gone to bed to broach the subject. Erik might be a bit more forgiving if she was in a sexy nightgown and sitting beside him in bed. She had never been one to ply her feminine wiles before, but at this point, she was willing use any weapon in her womanly arsenal.

When the time actually came, Christine picked out a rather skimpy outfit, brushed her hair till it shined, and even dabbed on a bit of perfume…just in case. Yet as Erik slipped into bed beside her, she still hadn't figured out how to bring up the subject. Thankfully, Erik supplied the perfect opening.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," he said, turning to look at her before he reached for the light. "Antoinette says that Meg has been invited to the charity ball by some mystery man. Do you know anything about that?"

"You…you heard about Meg's boyfriend?" Well, there was no turning back now…Pandora's Box had been thrown wide open.

"Only that she has one," he informed her. "Even Antoinette had no idea who he is. Has Meg mentioned him?"

"Ummm, well…yes," she hedged, bracing herself for a big blow up. "She kind of mentioned him to me yesterday."

"So what is the big secret?" Erik pressed. He then got a disapproving look in his eyes. "Please do not tell me he is one of her instructors at Juilliard!"

"No…nothing like that." Oh, if only it was that simple. "I think she's been keeping him under wraps because…well, it turns out he's someone I sort of know."

"Oh? Is it Edward Piangi?" Erik guessed, trying to think of anyone Christine and Meg might both be acquainted with.

"No…it's….it's Raoul Chaney," she at last blurted out, holding her breath for fear Erik would go crazy. She wasn't wrong.

"MEG IS DATING RAOUL CHANEY?" Erik shouted, leaping out of bed and taking a few steps back, as he ran his fingers through his hair in disbelief. "What on earth for? Is she insane?"

"No…actually, I think she might have honest feelings for him," Christine told him, doing her best to remain calm, figuring that at least one of them should.

"Good God, why?" Erik sneered. "A girl would have to be a fool to fall for his slick looks and plastic charms."

"HEY!" Christine huffed, glaring at Erik. "Meg is no fool…and besides, what would that make me?"

"You do not count," Erik quickly amended. "You were young and impressionable…he obviously had you duped."

"That still doesn't paint me in a very good light," she warned. "But regardless, Meg has been going out with Raoul for the past week or so, and he has invited her to the ball…so there is a very good chance that you _will_ see him there."

"Leave it to that fop to find a way to ruin a perfectly good evening!" Erik grumbled, continuing his pacing around the room. "How did they meet? Is he even the least bit interested in dance…or is it just the dancers?"

"They met at the after-party at Juilliard, the night of the recital," she told him. "He saw me talking to Meg earlier and decided to introduce himself, and apparently they…"

"Wait!" Erik broke in, suspicion filling his tone. "He saw _you_ talking to Meg? Why that devious little gutter rat! Is it not obvious what he is doing? That wretched boy is using Meg to spy on you! Oh, when I get my hands on him, he will wish he had never been born!"

"Erik, please stop," Christine begged, trying to calm him down before she next confessed her own sins. "At first I thought the same thing, but Raoul swears it has nothing to do with me…or you. He said he truly likes her, and begged me to say it was all right for him to keep seeing her. And even though I'm still not one-hundred percent sure I believe him…I can't spoil Meg's happiness on just a mere chance."

Halfway through her little speech, Erik had stopped pacing, staring at her in disbelief.

"You…you _spoke_ to him?" Erik asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "When?"

Christine's shoulders slumped, knowing this was it…the moment of truth. And since the truth is what Erik deserved, that was what she would give him.

"Well, after Meg told me about him, I…I kind of called him," she stated, looking away in shame. "I needed to find out if he was using Meg in any way. I had to…she's my friend!"

"You called him?" Erik restated, now looking confused. "From _your_ phone?"

"No…I used the one at Leathwood," she admitted, thinking that in itself made her look even guiltier. "I was hoping I could get this all ironed out before telling you about it. So I scheduled a meeting with him today at the costume shop."

"YOU MET WITH HIM?" Erik shouted. "ALONE?"

"Well…sort of. I mean we _were_ in a busy store, surrounded by other customers." When this did not seem to alleviate his anger, Christine quickly went on. "But then Amir was there as well, so nothing happened…I swear!"

"Amir knew of this… _and didn't tell me?"_ Now Erik's voice had turned to an almost deadly calm, making Christine worry even more.

"NO! He didn't know anything until we got there and he saw Raoul walk in…then I had to confess everything. I had every intention of telling you as well, and I did…just well, maybe not in the best way I could have, I guess." She hung her head and played with the edge of the blanket, waiting to see what Erik might do next. He was obviously upset, there was no denying that…but exactly how upset was the question. She got her answer moments later when she heard him stomp to their bedroom door, slamming it behind him as he left. "Well, I guess that answers that," Christine said, falling back upon the bed and burying her head in the pillow to cry.

.

.

It was nearly an hour later when Christine felt brave enough to search out her husband, and attempt to make amends. The longer an argument continued, the harder it was to fix, thus, she tiptoed her way downstairs, peeking in several rooms before locating Erik. He was sitting on the piano bench in the music room, staring at the keys before him, yet not playing. His shoulders were slumped, and thankfully, he no longer appeared so angry. Still, she approached with caution, not wanting to startle him if he didn't know she was there. Of course such a thing was foolish…and Erik spoke without bothering to turn around.

"You should be asleep by now, Christine," he reasoned, at last lifting his hand to press a few random notes out on the piano keys.

"They say a husband and wife should never go to bed angry," she told him, hoping that this bit of marital knowledge might convince him to make peace with her. "I'm so very sorry Erik. I know you don't trust Raoul, but I believe he might actually have honest feelings for Meg, and I would never want to break her heart by interfering, if there was no need." She then moved over to sit beside him on the bench, reaching out to place her hand over his. "Still, I shouldn't have gone behind your back and made that appointment when I know Raoul upsets you so much. I hope you can forgive me." When he continued to stare at the keys with a blank look in his eyes, she began to fidget. "Erik…do you hate me now?"

"Hate you?" he repeated, saying the word as if it held no meaning. "No…I could never hate you, Christine," Erik finished quietly.

"Well, you don't exactly seem pleased with me…and you have every right to be upset…but, do you think you might be able to forgive me?" she pressed, not liking this silent Erik. If he were mad and yelling, at least Christine could tell what he was thinking, but this…she was completely lost. "Just tell me how you're feeling…please, Erik, you're really freaking me out here."

"I am…I am afraid," Erik at last admitted.

"Afraid? Of what?" Christine questioned. "Me and Raoul? _Never!_ I swear that he means nothing to me, and even back in school it was never really love we felt for each other either, I see that now. You know I'm in this for the long haul…I'm not going anywhere. You have nothing at all to be afraid of Erik."

"Oh, but I do, Christine," he said with a sad shake of his head. "For there will always be a Raoul, a Chris Pratt…or a million other men out there who can give you what I cannot."

"Erik…what are you talking about?" Christine's worry was only increasing.

" _My face_ , Christine! I can never be like them, able to be what you deserve…a handsome husband," he moaned, turning to face her at last. "You have always been far too good for me, yet I allowed myself to believe that for once…this _thing,_ " here he pointed at is masked face, "would not matter."

"But it doesn't matter!" she insisted, quickly scooting over until she was literally plastered against him. Slowly reaching up, so as not to spook him, she took his masked face gently in her palms. "Or at least it wouldn't, if you could just allow yourself to forget about it."

 _"Forget about it?"_ he scoffed. "Forget about the one thing in this world that keeps me from being like everyone else?"

"And why would you even _want_ to be like everyone else?" she shot back. "Did it ever occur to you that I might like you just the way you are?"

"Really, Christine?" he mocked. "And how is that? Certainly not attractive!"

"Well, right now I'm tempted to say stubborn, cantankerous, irritating, insufferable, and confusing…should I go on?" she asked.

"No, I think I get the picture," he said in a quiet voice, reaching up to remove her hands, bringing them down to his lap where he held them tenderly.

"Yet that's not the _full_ picture," she added, her tone turning softer. "That's just the side that you show the world…and Amir on occasion. But do you want to know what I see? I see a man who is kind, generous, thoughtful, caring, and even funny at times…if you allow yourself to be." Here she snickered just a bit, causing him to look up at her in confusion. "Well, _you're_ the one who said you are always deadly serious."

"About certain things I am," he informed her.

"But what say we not treat _this_ little incident as something so terribly serious, all right?" Christine asked hopefully. "I admit…I made a mistake, a huge one. I shouldn't have gotten involved…even my father advised me against it." When Erik cocked his head to one side questioningly, she waved him off. "I'll tell you later. The bottom line is, we all do stupid things from time to time, never meaning to hurt anyone in the process. And the last thing I would ever wish to do is cause you pain. Are you really, really mad at me?"

"Christine," Erik said, bringing his fingers up to run through the curls at her temple, tucking a few strays behind her ear. "I could never truly be mad at you…this news about Raoul just surprised me, is all."

"Yah, well Amir pointed out that you'd have been even more surprised if the first you knew about it was when he and Meg showed up at the ball," she pointed out.

"I am forced to agree, I doubt my nerves could have taken such a revelation," he agreed. "Thank you for warning me ahead of time." Erik then paused, as if mulling something over, his eyes getting a stern look to them. "Now that I _do_ know, however, I will be sure to have Raoul thrown out on his ear the moment he arrives."

"ERIK!" she gasped. "You're not serious!"

"See, Christine…" he told her, his lips turning up into a smile. "I _can_ be funny."

"Why you little rat!" she laughed, reaching out as she began to tickle his ribs, loving the way he squirmed and called out for mercy. "That'll teach you to mess with me!"

"Oh?" he questioned, suddenly no longer on the defense, but instantly switching to attack mode. "Two can play at this game."

"ERIK NO! Stop, this isn't fair!" she cried out, doing her best to wiggle away as she laughed uncontrollably. "I'm horribly ticklish…stop…please stop before I wet myself!"

"Well, we can't have that," Erik chuckled, at last fulfilling her wishes and halting his playful attack. "You look far too delicious in that nightgown to make you change due to incontinence."

"Oh, hush," she laughed, slapping at his arm in embarrassment.

"Might you have chosen that particular outfit in an effort to soften me up for your little confession?" he guessed, a knowing smile touching his lips.

"Maybe," she admitted. "Did it work?"

"Well…it certainly did not hurt," he assured her. "Yet no matter what you chose to wear, the fact that you told me the truth is what earned my forgiveness. Thank you again for being honest with me."

"Well, I would have felt like a total hypocrite keeping it to myself after you were so brave and told me about _your_ past the other night," Christine said. "And Amir was very adamant that I not delay in doing so either. That man is really tenacious!"

"One of his best - and worst, qualities - depending on whether his rant is aimed at you or not," Erik agreed. "Yet, in this I am glad he chose to advise you thusly…and that you took it to heart."

"I always want you to be able to trust me, Erik," she said meekly, scooting over once again so she could lean her head against his shoulder. "And I do hope you realize that you can."

"Trust is not something I am overly familiar with," he whispered, cringing just a bit as he realized he had spoken those very words once before… _to Roshni._ He only prayed that this time was different…that _Christine_ was different. "But…with you is the closest I have ever come."

"Then we will just have to keep working on that," she told him firmly, not discouraged by his rather hesitant reply. "Am I now forgiven for _my_ non-communication blunder?" Christine asked, turning her head so she could look up at him hopefully.

"I once said that if it ever came time for me to offer _you_ forgiveness, I would do so with the same grace and generosity that you have given me on multiple occasions," he reminded her. "Thus…yes, you are forgiven, my little angel."

"Thank you, Erik," she smiled, reaching up to kiss his lips. "I think we are really getting the hang of this husband and wife stuff. This time we worked through our issues without yelling at each other…well, not _much_ at least," she giggled. "And no one threw anything this time either."

"I do not recall anyone throwing things during our last few arguments," Erik pointed out.

"Well…you weren't in the room at the time when I did," she admitted sheepishly. "Don't worry, it was nothing breakable."

"Thank you for that," he nodded. "So…have we settled our differences adequately, allowing our slumber for the night to be unaffected by regrets?"

"I believe so," she agreed. "But what _are_ you going to do when you see Raoul tomorrow night? Should I forbid you to wear the sword that came with your costume, for fear you'll run him through?"

"The blade is made of plastic, Christine," Erik stated with a roll of his eyes. "And if I wanted him dead, I would never be so uncouth as to use a sword…that would leave far too much blood all over the dance floor. No, a quick garroting, or a touch of poison in his punch glass, would be much more civilized."

"Oh, would it now?" this time it was Christine's turn to shake her head in exasperation. "You better be careful, Erik, one day someone's not going to realize you're teasing, and then if that person does end up dead, you will be their prime suspect!"

"And that is why I keep Antoinette on retainer…to get me off on a technicality," he joked. Yet when he saw his jests were beginning to upset her, he became serious. "Christine, you have my word that I will not harm Mr. Chaney…not at the ball, and not in the foreseeable future. Just as long as he leaves us alone, and does not break Meg's heart, the boy may live unbruised."

"Oh, trust me, if he makes Meg cry, a good bruising is the least he'll be getting from me!" Christine stated, her eyes turning dangerous. "And I told him that too!"

"I do enjoy it when you turn into a little spit-fire," Erik chuckled.

"You do?" she asked, looking up at him. "I'll remember that."

"Do," he instructed, tapping his finger on the tip of her nose. "But now, it is time for sleep. We have a very big day tomorrow. There will be guests to meet, hands to shake, details that need attending…and perhaps one small murder, but nothing I can't handle."

"ERIK!" Christine chastised, before he swiftly scooped her up in his arms, and carried her back upstairs. Once inside their room, with the door shut, he went to her side of the bed and laid her back in her place, giving her a swift kiss on the lips before proceeding to his own, shutting off the light.

"No more talking, Christine," he said with mock sternness. "We do not wish to begin another argument this late at night…then we will _never_ get any rest."

Christine had to agree, and turned over, taking a few moments to find her comfortable spot. _If only I was brave enough to take Amir's advice and chose to end our fight with make-up sex…then I don't think either of us would be complaining too much about a lack of sleep,_ she thought to herself, her face turning red once more at the thought. She did have to admit…the idea sounded rather appealing!

.

.

Yet, try as she might, Christine found she couldn't sleep - for several perplexing thoughts kept bouncing around in her mind. One was how quickly Meg had seemed to have fallen for Raoul, after only knowing him for like a week and a half! Was that _too_ fast? Christine had dated Raoul for six months and never felt as strongly about him as Meg seemed to.

And then there was Erik…whom she had only known for two months. Granted one of those months they spent living as husband and wife, but still that was a very short amount of time…right?

 _Or was it?_

Emotions knew nothing of time, nor did love go by a set schedule, and Christine was becoming more and more convinced that she was indeed _in love_ with Erik.

 _Or was she?_

 _Uuuugggggg!_ Christine thought to herself…what was wrong with her? Erik was a wonderful man! Secretive as all get out, nearly impossible to predict, but she knew she wouldn't trade him for anything. Erik Thorn was her husband, the man she planned on having children with, and remain at his side till death they do part. So why did she keep waiting? Why was she keeping _him_ waiting?

"I won't!" she suddenly stated, slapping her hand over her mouth when she realized she had just said this out loud.

"You won't what?" came Erik's voice in the dark, not sounding at all sleepy either.

"I…I won't be nervous about the charity ball tomorrow," she said, thinking quickly.

"There is no reason for you to be so," Erik admonished, his tone soothing. "You will do just fine, do not worry."

"I…I won't," she assured him. "That's what I was telling myself just now. I _won't_ be nervous."

"Good, now get some sleep, I plan on sharing quite a few dances with you, so we cannot have you growing tired too quickly," he instructed.

"No sir!" Christine agreed. Wondering what Erik would say about her having learned the tango just for him. And the more she thought about it…the more she decided she needed to get a good night's sleep for another reason as well. Oh yes, if she had her way, it was going to be a very big night…for the both of them!

.

.

They spent Saturday morning lounging around, trying to not think about the evening ahead. Erik was not worried, knowing that Antoinette and a team of professionals were handling the decorations, the food, and every other arrangement to his exact specifications. Which left him able to concentrate on his own costume…and Christine.

As the time grew near for them to get dressed and head to the party, Christine handed him a paper sack, the top conveniently stapled closed.

"Here is Amir's costume," she informed him. "You need to take it over to him and make sure he wears it."

"Why me…you are the one who picked it out," he told her.

"Yes, but he'll listen to you," she countered. "He would only laugh at me and refuse to wear it."

"Not if he knew what was good for him," Erik said in a threatening tone.

"See…use _that_ voice and he is certain to put it on," Christine giggled, gently guiding him towards the sunroom door. "Now scoot…and no peeking!"

"You know, a few staples will hardly stop me from looking," he informed her.

"No, but knowing I don't _want_ you to, will!" she replied.

Erik saw her point.

.

.

A few minutes later he was knocking on Amir's door, waiting for the man to answer. When he did, it looked as if the Persian had just stepped out of the shower, his hair wet and his lower half wrapped in a large towel.

"And what if I had been Christine?" Erik growled. "Would you have still answered the door like that?"

"I knew it was you," he informed him, stepping aside as he waved him in. "You have a very distinctive knock. It's a cross between a pound…and a battering ram."

"Then install a doorbell," Erik shot back, tossing the paper bag onto the nearby table. "This is for you."

"Gifts?" Amir asked, eyeing the sack with a wide grin.

"It is from Christine," he explained. "For you to wear tonight at the costume ball."

"Hey, no one said I had to dress in a monkey suit!" he argued, now looking rather upset.

"I wonder if it is a monkey suit," Erik mused, taking a step closer with an eager look in his eyes. "Open it up and see!"

Yet Amir grabbed the sack and held it to his bare chest, eyeing him suspiciously.

"You mean _you_ don't know what's in here either?" he asked.

"Christine would not tell me," he grumbled. "And now I suppose you will not either."

"Not if keeping it form you will drive you crazy," he laughed.

"Fine, keep your blasted secrets!" Erik said snidely. Yet at the mention of secrets, he felt obligated to thank his friend for the part he had played in helping Christine come to the conclusion that she needed to tell him about Raoul. However, saying the words was not something Erik was comfortable with, so instead he reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, handing Amir a hundred dollar bill. "Here…this is for you."

"Uhhh…why?" came the Persian's confused reply.

"Well, if you do not want it," Erik began, moving to put it away.

"I never said I didn't want it!" Amir quickly stated, grabbing the money before it disappeared. "I just want to know what I did to earn it."

"You encouraged Christine to tell me the truth about her meeting with Raoul," he said, feeling very uncomfortable.

"Ahhhh, so she _did_ tell you," Amir nodded with a wide grin. "Good for her."

"Yes…it was good, for both of us," Erik agreed. "And now I will not be blindsided by the appearance of that wretched boy tonight…and escorting Meg, no less!"

"I know! What is that girl thinking?" Amir chimed in.

"Apparently she has laid clear thought aside and is allowing her hormones to make her decisions," Erik scoffed.

"Does Antoinette know?" Amir questioned.

"She knows Meg is dating someone, but she has yet to learn his identity," Erik revealed. "Yet…even if she did know, the name Raoul Chaney would mean nothing to her, for I never mentioned Christine's previous connection with him. Perhaps it is better this way. For according to my wife, I have a tendency to foster my personal opinions on others, affecting their love-lives."

"You do?" Amir asked, looking perplexed. "And exactly who would that be?"

Thankfully, before Erik blurted anything out, he remembered that Christine meant for Antoinette's affections for Amir to remain a secret…until she chose to tell the man herself.

"Never mind," he said with a wave of his hand. "Just put on the costume and meet us over at the house in forty-five minutes. I want to get there before anyone else and check things over."

"Do I really have to wear a costume?" Amir whined, still unwilling, even though he had yet to discover what was in the bag.

"If I am to be forced to endure one…so are you," Erik ordered. "Now, hurry up, I do not want to be late." And with that, he turned to go.

"Thanks for the money," Amir called after him. "And…you're welcome."

Erik just raised his hand and waved it over his shoulder, refusing to give a response.

 _"Irritating man,"_ he muttered to himself, shutting the door a bit more forcefully than necessary.

* * *

 **Well...how do you think Erik took things?**

 **I thought Christine did a fair job of confessing and then apologizing, and Erik was equally forgiving...after he cooled down a bit.**

 **Hmmmm, a big night, huh? Here's hoping.**

 **Sooooo, ready to find out what Amir is going as? Ready for the Ball? Ready to see how Erik reacts to Raoul...and if there will be any bloodshed? ha ha. Good thing his sword is plastic!**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest RP:** That's what he needs, someone to surprise him! Keeps life interesting. Yes, he really BETTER like Meg, after all that threatening, one would think if he didn't he would simply run! ha ha. Oh, man...a sumo wrestler? That cracked me up! Thanks

 **Guest:** Liked your guesses! I think a bunch of people are watching him! Me included. ha ha. WHAT...Raoul won't get a new iPhone? You're mean! Um...no, I'm sorry, I didn't get your reference. Expelled? Clue me in, my brain is no working apparently. Thanks for the review!

 **GuestWraithSnake:** Ha ha, Erik said HE wouldn't show his legs, but maybe Amir will!? ha ha, too funny. I will give you a hint, it is NOT related to any of my previous stories...not even Siren of the Sea. ha ha. I will never let this story end badly...Erik deserves his happy ending. Now getting there...that's another story. Robbin - as in Batman and Robbin? ha ha. Or a cowboy...going as Chris Pratt? ha ha. Erik is kind of soft on her...but his feelings are fragile...but it looks like they worked it out. Don't worry, Erik did not see your comment...you are safe. Thanks!

 **PG4044:** Yes, but as you can see it did NOT go down in flames after all! Fire extinguishers were used, all is OK. And why wouldn't the ball go well...other than the fact that Raoul will be there, and Amir has to wear a costume, and Erik has no idea his wife learned the tango, and...and...I can't think of any more reasons, but I suppose those are enough. ha ha. And good guess...you will find out if you are right on Friday!

 **Kristin:** ha ha, a hundred dollar bill would have been hysterical! Yes, it was a good thing that Amir was there to monitor her and Raoul's meeting...he can attest to Erik that nothing happend...not the he needs to, since Erik forgave her just fine. Amir is very protective over Antoinette and Meg. Thanks.


	46. Chapter 46

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 **First of all, I am soooo far behind on my reviewing - it's a long work week and I've been slammed. But I will catch up this weekend, I promise!  
**

 **Second, I have been really enjoying all your guesses for Amir's costume. Some were very creative, some were funny as all get out, and some were spot on!**

 **Some of my favorites: A hundred dollar bill, a cup of Starbucks coffee, the monkey on the music-box, a Mustard bottle, Robbin - the boy wonder,** **the Karate kid, Samurai Warrior, Sumo Wrestler, a Taco, Ninja Turtle, a cow with udders, a horses rear, a Roman in a toga, cowboy, ninja, The King and I,** **Genghis Kahn, a panda bear, and a pirate! ALL wonderful guesses. I just hope what he does wear pleases you all.  
**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 46**

 **~X~**

* * *

Ten minutes later Erik returned, heading up to the bedroom where Christine had just laid their costumes out on the bed, running her hands over the frilly red and black dress eagerly.

"So…is he going to wear it?" she asked.

"He better," Erik grumbled. "I believe the idea that I do not know what it is will entice him to at least try it on. And after that, I will make sure he does not take it off."

"Who knows, he might get a kick out of it," she laughed, doing her best to picture him in the get up. "Now, I can't wait to see _you_ in your costume!"

"Just as I am eager to see you in yours," Erik agreed. "Shall we both dress and come out at the same time?"

"All right, but mine might take a little longer to throw together than yours…so be patient," she instructed, gathering up all her items and hurrying into her bathroom. "Be out as quickly as I can!"

Erik took his own and headed for his own washroom, an eager smile on his face.

.

.

Between the stockings, the dress, the shoes, make up, and fixing her hair with a high Spanish style comb and a red rose, it took her a bit longer than anticipated. But once she was finished she thought she looked perfect. Well, almost perfect…there was still the ruby necklace that Erik had given her, but she wanted him to help her put that on personally. So, picking up the velvet box, she went to the door, opening it up just a crack.

"Are you ready?" she called.

"I am," came his affirmative answer.

"Then get ready Zorro…here comes your Spanish Flower," she giggled, throwing open the door and sashaying out with a flourish.

Erik was speechless. Where had his innocent Christine gone, and who was this sultry temptress now standing before him? She looked amazing! He loved the outfit, the alluring stockings making him want to rip them off her, and her hair done up in the back with the high comb, and the rest falling over her left shoulder, was very enticing. Erik almost wished he could lock her away in their room and just stare at her for days on end.

"Christine…you look…wonderful!" he smiled, still amazed that she was all his.

"Well, so do you!" she gushed, loving the way the black shirt and pants hugged his tall form. He wore a cape and hat - both with little accents of gold filigree on the edges - black leather gloves covered his hands, and he had a shiny silver sword and a cloth bullwhip at his belt…which sported the letter Z on the buckle. Yet what just screamed Zorro, was the black mask, though Christine could see that he had altered it just a bit in order to cover the full extent of his deformity, not wishing for even a fraction of an inch to show. Still the entire effect was something Christine was certain would cause many a lady's heart to flutter at the party…she certainly knew hers was! "Erik…you look sexy as hell!"

"Oh?" he questioned, spreading out his arms and looking down at himself as if he were trying to see what Christine did. "I do?"

"Oh yes!" she nodded, allowing her eyes to roam up and down his form, loving what she saw. "I'm going to have to beat the women off with a stick tonight!"

"While I will be forced to gouge out the eyes of every man who even dares to look in your direction," he said, returning the compliment.

"Hmmm, if we are going to spend the whole evening hitting people with sticks and poking their eyes out…maybe we should just stay home?" Christine laughed.

"Antoinette might kill us…but I am willing to take the chance if you are," Erik agreed.

"Oh, no, I didn't get all gussied up like this just to sit and watch a movie tonight," Christine protested. "Besides, I think you promised me a dance or two. And I can't wait to see how that cape looks as we twirl around the floor."

"Then to the ball we shall go," Erik chuckled, giving her a dramatic bow. "Shall we?"

"Wait…first I need your help putting on my necklace," she said, handing him the box. "I didn't want to do it wrong and risk it coming loose on me."

"I would be most happy to aid you," he agreed, removing his black leather gloves as he lifted the necklace from the box. Christine turned around, waiting for him to place it on her. Yet when she heard a small intake of breath, she worried something might have gone wrong with the jewelry. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes…all is well," he lied, his throat suddenly quite dry after seeing the deep scoop in the back of her dress, revealing quite a bit of her tantalizing flesh to his eyes. _Oh, how was he expected to keep his hands off of her all night?_ Erik quickly fastened the necklace in place, wishing to distance himself from the temptation of leaning down and kissing the back of her neck…as well as other places. "There, all set."

Christine turned back around, touching the necklace as she smiled up at him.

"Now I'm ready," she informed him.

"Then allow me to escort you, Señora," Erik said with a very impressive Spanish accent, holding out his arm.

"Oh, wow," Christine sighed, taking hold of him with a dreamy look in her eyes. "Antonio Banderas, eat your heart out!"

This made Erik laugh, loving how his wife seemed to find him desirable. If he had known this outfit was going to affect her _this_ way, he would have worn it every day and night since he got it!

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.

They made their way down to the foyer, making sure they had everything they needed for the evening, but when Erik turned around, he suddenly froze. For there, standing in the doorway to the sunroom was… _a ninja?_ The man was dressed all in black with his head and face covered, the only part of him not hidden from view was his eyes. He was brandishing a long Samurai sword, the weapon held in both his hands at an angle, with several other shiny objects hanging from a belt at his middle. Acting on instinct, Erik quickly stepped in front of Christine, prepared to defend her against this sinister attacker.

"Oh, Amir! You look fabulous!" Christine squealed, stepping around Erik and clapping her hands together in excitement.

 _"Amir?"_ Erik gasped, not enjoying this surprise at all. "What the hell?"

"I wanted to surprise you…and it appears I did," the Persian laughed, reaching up and tugging the lower part of his mask down, allowing the rest of his face to be seen.

"I could have easily killed you!" Erik argued. "If Christine had not chosen to speak, I was about to attack."

"I think I was pretty safe," he said matter of factly. "It was highly unlikely that you could have got past my amazingly sharp sword." He demonstrated this by bending the tip over with his finger until the plastic weapon looked more like a fishhook. "I come very well armed, you see."

"As do I," Erik growled. "And I am _not_ referring to the plastic blade at my side."

"Oh…" Amir's tone suddenly became a bit more serious.

"So…do you like it?" Christine asked, having pretty much ignored their whole conversation. "I thought since you skulk around most of the day anyway, going unseen and all, a ninja costume would be perfect for you."

"I actually do like it, very much," Amir laughed. "Not only do I feel like I get to wear pajamas to a party, with this mask in place, no one will even know who I am…it's perfect."

"I'm glad you think so," she grinned.

"And I must say, you two look amazing!" Amir complimented. "If you don't win the costume contest, then I say everyone is blind and stupid."

"We are the hosts of the party, it would not be right if we took home the prize for the best couples' costume," Erik argued. "Yet, I will agree with you on the fact that Christine will outshine everyone there." He then looked at his watch. "If you are ready, go see if Gerald is out front. We will be there in a moment."

"As you say, oh Spanish Fox," Amir nodded, pulling the fabric up over the lower part of his face and headed for the door, once more brandishing his weapon and walking all stealthy like.

"There will be no living with him after this," Erik said with a shake of his head. "Why did you have to choose _that_ costume? I think he has formed a rather unhealthy attachment to it already."

"I had to get something that could be paired up with what Antoinette is wearing," she insisted. "You said she was going with the Japanese look…so this way they'll match!"

"So, you are playing matchmaker, are you?" Erik chuckled, now understanding her reasons.

"Well, a little nudge in the right direction can't hurt…can it?" she pressed.

"It can if the direction is towards a cliff," he pointed out. "And I thought I told you to get him something embarrassing."

"Well…the only other thing they had in his size that would have worked was a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle costume…and I really didn't think we could get him to wear _that,_ no matter how much you threatened him!" Christine admitted.

"I think you might be right," Erik said with a serious nod…though he would have loved to have tried. "We better get going, we don't want to be late, and now I am curious whether Amir startled Gerald with that costume and got punched for his troubles."

"Gerald wouldn't do that…would he?" Christine asked, suddenly not sure.

"If Amir was foolish enough to sneak up on him, he would have," Erik said with a wide grin. "Now…let's go find out."

.

.

Thankfully, Amir had wisely approached Gerald with a measure of caution, so no ambulance was required. The drive to the Mason Hotel did not take long and soon the three were entering the lavishly decorated Empire Ballroom, with Christine gasping in amazement at all the lights and finery. Never before had she seen such an affair, and she couldn't wait for the place to be filled with brightly dressed people, it would truly be a night to remember.

"Christine!" Antoinette said, catching their attention as she hurried over. "Your dress is beautiful!"

"And don't you look amazing too!" Christine gushed, taking in the lovely red, black, and gold Kimono she was wearing. The long sleeves were stunning, though still gave her ease of movement, and the wide obi belt and comfortable looking pair of zori sandals really capped off the outfit. Her make up looked lovely, especially with her dark hair pulled up high on her head with a matching flower for accent.

"I thought it would be fun," Antoinette said with a smile, then turned to address her employer. "I have to say, you and Christine look smashing together, Mr. Thorn." But her eyes really opened wide when she spotted the man standing behind them. "And is that you, Mr. Dessan?"

"It is indeed, though I thought we agreed to use our given names when we were not working, Antoinette," he told her, his tone soft and smooth.

"Oh, of course…Amir," she said with a slight blush, averting her eyes just a bit.

"Is Meg here yet?" Christine asked, looking around for her friend.

"No, she was still getting dressed when I left," Antoinette informed her with an irritated look. "Apparently her date is picking her up and bringing her. She still refuses to tell me anything about him, and wouldn't even reveal what her costume is."

"Well, I'm sure she just wants to surprise you," Christine said encouragingly. "But don't worry, he's a very respectable guy…you'll most likely get along with him great."

"Oh? She's at least told _you_ about him, has she?" Antoinette looked both perturbed and relieved by this news. "Well, that makes me feel a little bit better." She then turned and looked at Amir once more. "I have to say, that's an interesting costume you chose. What made you think of coming as a ninja?"

"Actually, Christine picked it out for me," he admitted. "I had not considered dressing up at all tonight, until it was handed to me just this afternoon."

"Well, you couldn't come to a costume ball in your regular clothes," Christine huffed. "You need to get into the spirit of things." She then looked between the two of them, acting as if something had just suddenly occurred to her. "And hey, since your costumes kind of match, and you're both here alone…why don't you two sign up for the couples contest! It would be perfect!"

"Oh…I don't know, Christine," Antoinette hedged, instantly seeing what her boss' wife was trying to do. While the idea thrilled her, she was not about to make Amir feel uncomfortable.

"I think it's a wonderful idea!" Amir broke in. "I hear first prize is a free dinner for two at Sakura Sai, that Japanese restaurant in Manhattan. I've been dying to try out their wagyu with white truffle, but at their prices, this might be the only chance I get."

"Then…you want to register together?" Antoinette asked, shocked but thrilled by his offer.

"Sure, let's do it," he nodded, holding out his arm for her, as he escorted her towards the table where the couples' signup sheet was located.

"Well…it would seem your little plan has worked out well, my dear," Erik whispered in her ear as they watched the two head off. "Remind me never to bet against you."

"And well you shouldn't," she giggled. "I am notorious for not playing fair."

"As am I," Erik told her with a wink. "As am I."

.

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Within the hour, the ballroom was nearly filled to capacity, with more guests still arriving. Every big-wig and person of wealth and status was there, each wearing a lavish costume. Erik and Christine were kept busy meeting and greeting guest after guest, most wishing to congratulate them on a wonderful turnout and theme. It seemed that even the most conservative stuffed-shirt wanted to play dress up and attend the ball, drawing out many who had never attended the charity event before. There were several Robbin Hoods and Maid Marions, a Gomez and Morticia Adams, at least four Pirates and their Lusty Wenchs, Cinderella and Prince Charming, Han Solo and Princess Leia, Alice in Wonderland and the Mad Hatter, and many, many more. Erik and Christine were so busy greeting everyone, that they almost missed Raoul and Meg's entrance… _almost_.

Christine was talking with someone and not paying much attention to the crowd, but Erik had been facing the door, and was instantly alerted to their arrival. And while he had told himself he was not going to let that boy's presence bother him, Erik's eyes couldn't help but grow wide as he saw the costumes the young couple had chosen. Stepping over to Christine, he politely made an excuse to the woman she was talking to, and pulled his wife aside.

"What is it, Erik?" Christine asked, not sure what had her husband in a tizzy.

"Raoul and Meg are here," he hissed, yet for some reason, his tone sounded more amused than murderous. "And you will never guess what they are wearing."

"Oh? Where are they?" Christine turned around doing her best to find them among the other guests. When she did spot them, she immediately understood why Erik was struggling to suppress his laughter. "I can't believe it…they came as Ken and Barbie!" she giggled, covering her mouth with her fingers in an attempt to remain composed. After Erik had accused him of being Malibu Ken the day he showed up at their house to visit her, it was downright hilarious that Raoul would in fact show up to the party dressed as that very doll. Meg wore a tight fitting blue spandex jump suit, with rainbow leg warmers and high heels, obviously portraying Workout Barbie. Her hair was up in a high pony tail and her makeup was fixed in a way that made her look very doll-like. While Raoul sported a pair of white tennis shoes, powder blue shorts, a blue and black leopard print shirt that was opened at the collar, and a shiny blue ascot tied around his neck. His hair was even slicked back with some kind of product that made it appear hard and shiny, causing them both to look as if they had just rolled off the assembly line at the Mattel toy factory in California.

"I told you that boy was all flash and plastic," Erik said, enjoying this more than he probably should have. "I wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't even anatomically correct, and there is nothing but a smoothie beneath those pants."

"ERIK!" Christine gasped, though it was hard to keep the laughter out of her voice. "Now you stop! You said you'd be nice."

"No…I said I would not _harm_ him, I never said I would be cordial…or respectful," he reminded her. "So, it would be best you keep that little boy-toy away from me."

"Well, with as pretty as Meg looks, I hardly think he'll be paying either of us any attention," Christine assured him. "Am I allowed to go say hello to them, or will that up Raoul's mortality rate? Meg _is_ my best friend, you know, I can hardly ignore them all evening."

"Very well, you may go and wish them a pleasant evening. Get it out of your system, I will not attempt to stop you," he huffed. "Yet I would appreciate it if you kept your visit short, I hate the idea of being left alone too long…for it appears that far too many guests wish to converse with me. You know how I hate making small talk."

"Oh, you poor baby," she cooed, reaching up to kiss his masked cheek. "I promise to be back soon to rescue you."

"I should hope so," he nodded, giving her a wink as she headed off.

.

.

"Meg!" Christine squealed, embracing her friend warmly. "Your costume is adorable! You even have the thoroughly unrealistic figure to pull it all off."

"Oh, stop," Meg blushed, never releasing Raoul's hand. "You're embarrassing me."

"Nonsense," Christine laughed. "I'm sure I'm only saying what Raoul has been thinking ever since he picked you up."

"Trust me, I've been thinking that and more," Raoul smiled, giving Meg a playful wink. He then straightened up and gave Christine a nervous smile. "Yet all in a perfectly proper and respectful manner, I assure you."

"Good to hear," Christine said sternly. "Yet, tonight I'm not the one you need to be worried about. Meg's mother is here, and she will be grilling you enough for the both of us."

"Oh, dear," Meg moaned. "Is she really on the war path?"

"Don't worry, honey," Raoul spoke up, putting his arm around her in a comforting manner. "I will be on my best behavior and really butter her up. Parents usually love me."

"It's true," Christine told Meg a bit reluctantly. "My father just adored Raoul…at first." Here she shot him a scalding look. "But fear not, I already put in a good word for you with Antoinette. Now you just need to live up to all the hype." She then spotted the woman in question heading in their direction, followed closely behind by her ninja shadow. "I hope you're ready…incoming! And it looks like she brought reinforcements."

Meg and Raoul turned around just as Mrs. Giry approached, sizing up the man next to her daughter with the discerning eye of a hardened lawyer. Amir was no less intimidating, the only part of his face that was showing were his eyes, and they did _not_ appear friendly. Christine didn't know if she should laugh or feel sorry for Raoul.

"Mother, allow me to introduce you to Raoul Chaney. Raoul, this is my mother, Antoinette Giry," Meg said, a touch of nervousness in her voice.

"It is indeed a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Giry," Raoul said, taking her hand and placing a gallant kiss on the back of it, apparently startling the usually unflappable woman just a bit. "Meg has mentioned you quite often, and it's truly an honor to meet the lovely lady I have heard so much about."

"Oh…well," Antoinette stammered, blushing just a bit at his words.

"Yah, yah, you can knock off the charm-school flattery, Chaney," Amir broke in, pulling down his lower face covering and reaching out to remove Antoinette' hand from his. "It aint gunna work here."

"It isn't?" came Mrs. Giry's rather icy tone, as she turned to stare at Amir in surprise. "And since when are good manners not appreciated? Or do you perhaps believe what he said is not true?"

"What…no! Of course not," Amir quickly countered. "I was just saying that you…you…"

"I what?" she pressed, rather enjoying seeing him this flustered.

"Yes, Mr. Dessan…what _did_ you mean?" Raoul asked, a smug smile on his face as he looked up at the man who had more than once threatened him.

Once more Amir's eyes narrowed, and if looks could kill, Raoul would have already been six feet under.

"I'm sorry…do you two know each other?" Antoinette questioned, easily recognized the tension between them.

"We've met a few times," Amir admitted.

"I see. And did you know that Mr. Chaney was the one escorting Meg tonight?" she pressed, leveling him with a stern glare.

"I…I only found out yesterday," he admitted, holding up his hands in defense. "But Christine knew a lot longer than me!"

"Nice, Amir," Christine huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Way to throw a girl under the bus!"

"I would expect Christine to keep Meg's secrets, they are friends," Antoinette continued. "While I thought perhaps your loyalties might have extended to me…though apparently, I was wrong."

"No! Not at all!" Amir was now sweating bullets, doing his best to backpedal his way out of all this.

"Meg, Mr. Chaney," Antoinette said, squeezing in-between them and taking them both by the arm. "How about we go visit the refreshment table and get better acquainted?" And without so much as a glance in Amir's direction, the three left.

The Persian ninja was left standing there with his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.

"What just happened here?" he begged to know.

"You put your foot in it," Christine explained. "And sunk all the way up to your neck."

"You could have helped me," he moaned. "Told me to shut up or something!"

"Nope, it was far too entertaining just to watch," she laughed.

"I think you're spending far too much time with Erik…you're just as mean as he is," Amir huffed.

"Hey! There's no need to be insulting," she told him. "And after I was nice enough to buy you that adorable little ninja outfit too! I think you need to go sit in a corner for a bit and think about what you've done." She shook her finger at him in a warning fashion. "Shame on you, Amir." And with that she turned and flounced off, knowing that he couldn't see her wicked smile as she left.

.

.

Meanwhile, Erik had indeed been accosted by several more guests, all wishing to speak with him about this or that…usually in an attempt to get him to fund some get rich quick scheme of theirs. Erik ignored them all, for while he was already rich, it had not happened quickly. Oh no, he had worked very hard for every penny he had, and he was not about to throw it down a rat hole by investing in some Ponzi scheme.

However, the person who irritated him the most had no reason to hit him up for money, for this man had plenty of his own…and all gained from nefarious sources.

"Hello, Thorn," a rather roundish man with thinning hair greeted as he walked up. He was dressed as King Henry the Eighth, and other than the fake beard, he really looked the part. The woman at his side however was not dressed to match, looking more like she came from the Victorian era, with the large white powdered wig and voluptuous dress that showed far too much of her cleavage for Erik's taste. The fact that he recognized the woman under all that make up as the man's niece, Carlotta De'Rossi, caused him to like her outfit even less. "It's been a while."

"That it has, Joseph," Erik agreed, not sounding as if that fact upset him in the least.

"So, what's this I hear about you settling down with a little wife at home? It would seem that, given enough money, even guys like us can manage to get a woman, eh Thorn?" he chuckled, enjoying his crass joke a lot more than Erik did.

"And yet I see you only brought your niece," Erik pointed out, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists.

"Well, I've got to get her out of the house sometime," Joseph said with a shrug. "All she does it sit around the pool, paint her nails, and run me broke shopping online." At this, Carlotta gave an insulted huff, turned up her nose, and walked away, leaving the two men standing alone.

"I really got to get that girl married off," De'Rossi said with a heavy sigh. "I hear your bride is enrolled at Juilliard. You must have had to pull a lot of strings to get her in there. Carlotta has auditioned, but so far…nothing."

"Christine got in on her own merit," Erik insisted. "She auditioned under her maiden name, I had nothing to do with her acceptance. She did that on talent alone."

"Well, good for her," Joseph nodded. "Carlotta tries, but I don't think she has the voice for it. But I do want to encourage her…after all, it's the only hobby that seems to hold her interest for more than a week."

"Perhaps you should enroll her in some other activity, like animal husbandry…that might solve both your problems," Erik said snidely, his thinly veiled insult thankfully going over De'Rossi's head.

Joseph simply gave Erik a look of confusion and moved on to another topic.

"I hear from certain sources that we might be seeing a lot more of you in the near future," he said with a rather smug smile on his pudgy face. "Had a change of heart, did ya?"

"Well, like you once said, one cannot do business in this town without getting their hands dirty," Erik informed him, making the man grin with pleasure. "Yet, I hardly think this is the time, or the place, to be discussing business. There are far too many prying eyes and ears here tonight, wouldn't you say?" Here he nodded to a group not far away, among whom was Philippe Chaney and his lovely wife.

"Ah…I see your point," Joseph agreed, nodding understandingly. "Later then."

"Of course," Erik replied. Then giving a slight incline of his head, he walked away, more than eager to end their uncomfortable conversation.

.

.

Christine had just left Amir, when she was approached by one of the girls serving glasses of champagne.

"Would you care for a drink, Madame?" she asked, causing Christine to stop and look in her direction.

"Maria!" she cried, giving her a careful hug, so as not to spill her drinks. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, since your husband hired Raffie to cater the dinner tonight, he is paying his waitresses to come and help serve, not to mention anyone else he could find. This place is massive, and the amount of people here is staggering. Raffie has been in a dither for the past week and a half. But don't worry, he's got it all in hand, and tonight will be spectacular! He really outdid himself on the food!"

"I knew he would," Christine grinned. "I'm glad he could do it on such short notice."

"Are you kidding, he would have done it on a day's notice for the chunk of money your husband is laying down for this!" Maria laughed. "I thought Raffie was going to have some epileptic fit when he saw how much he offered."

"Well, I'm glad. Raffie's food is amazing, so he deserves some recognition," Christine stated. "So, what's new with you? Been seeing anyone special?"

"You might say that," Maria laughed, switching the tray to her right hand so she could show Christine the huge rock on her left. "I'm engaged!"

"No way!" Christine squealed, grabbing her hand and eyeing the ring in amazement. "Who is he? What's he do? When's the wedding?"

"The wedding's not till sometime in the fall," Maria began, choosing to answer her questions in reverse order. "He's the owner of a restaurant…and it's Raffie!"

"WHAT? You and Raffie? How did _that_ happen?" Christine was shocked. Maria was the wild and flamboyant type, while Raffie was very driven and business oriented.

"Actually, I believe I have you to thank for all this," she giggled. "After you took off and got married, I think it started Raffie thinking on the same lines. And without you to talk to, I guess I started to gravitate towards him for conversation at work. At first, we just talked about you and how we hoped you were doing all right in your marriage, but pretty soon, things kind of turned to more personal issues…and the next thing we knew, we were dating. I know it sounds like we're jumping into something really fast, but Raffie and I've known each other for years now…and well, it just feels so right."

"I, for one, can't judge you when it comes to speed of getting married," Christine chuckled, offering another hug. "Truly, I can't be happier for you and Raffie. I do hope I get invited to the wedding," she added.

"Even though you ran off and eloped with _your_ man, I promise not to hold it against you," Maria laughed. "Of course you'll be invited. Just as soon as we set a date." She then got a serious look on her face and reached out to take hold of Christine's arm. "Is he treating you good? I won't lie…I was really worried when you married him so quickly. Are you happy, Christine?"

"Yes, Maria," she told her friend with a smile. "I am very happy in fact. And Erik has treated me like a queen from day one. Life couldn't be better." _Well, there was one thing that could make their lives even more perfect…and that thing might just be on the schedule for later that evening,_ Christine thought to herself.

"Oh, I'm so glad, and I know Raffie will be as well," she said with a sigh of relief. "Although, working with your husband on catering the ball has really caused Raffie to change his mind about Erik Thorn. Maybe things will turn out great for the both of us after all."

"I think so too," Christine nodded. "However, speaking of my man, I best get back to him. He's the one dressed like Zorro tonight, and I'm afraid if I leave him too long, a group of sex starved women will kidnap him."

"Ooooh, Zorro, huh?" Maria said with a waggle of her eyebrows. "Hot stuff!"

"Oh, Maria, you don't know the half of it," she giggled. "May I take two of these?" Christine asked, reaching for a couple glasses of champagne.

"Please do," she nodded. "After all…it's my job to make sure all you high important people are kept happy tonight."

"Come on, Maria," Christine said with a disgruntled look. "You and I cleaned up vomit in the men's bathrooms far too many times for you to ever think I'm any more important than you. I'm still just the same old Christine I've always been."

"Is that what you think?" Maria laughed, gesturing to her friend's fancy dress and ruby necklace. "Then you need to take another look in the mirror. Face it honey…you've moved up in the world. Way up." She then gave her a quick wink and headed off to refill her tray, leaving Christine standing there with her mouth open in shock.

.

.

"There you are, Erik," Christine said, weaving her way through the crowd with two champagne flutes in her hand, giving one to him with a smile. "I found Maria on my way back and got you a bit of bubbly."

"Thank you," Erik told her, taking it and downing the contents in one swallow.

"Wow…you really _don't_ like chatting with people, do you?" she chuckled, guessing that his mood now stemmed from the couple she had seen him speaking to a bit ago. "Wasn't that the woman who auditioned right before me at Juilliard that day?"

"Yes…Carlotta," Erik nodded, her name causing a bitter taste in his mouth. "As well as her uncle, Joseph De'Rossi."

"I take it you're not a fan?" Christine grinned, recalling how horrible the woman sang. "I couldn't believe how she threatened the professors by throwing her uncle's name around like that. Is that how you know them?"

"He is a member of the board at Juilliard…yes," Erik told her, though he did not care to elaborate. "But enough about him. Tell me, how are you enjoying the party thus far?"

"Oh, I love it," she grinned. "Everyone has been so nice, and I can't wait for dinner to be served!"

"Hungry, are you?" Erik asked.

"A bit, but I'm mostly excited to see how everyone likes Raffie's food," she confessed. "Did you know that Raffie and Maria are getting married?"

"Are they now?" This was news to Erik, though he did recall that Christine's waitress friend had been hanging around the restaurant owner quite a bit when he stopped by last week. "Well, good for them."

"It is good, isn't it?" Christine agreed. "She said they credit their getting together on us. That we put the idea of marriage into their minds."

"Well…it appears you can add them to your list of success stories, Miss Matchmaker," Erik teased.

"You know what, I just might," she nodded smugly. "Because currently, Amir is not doing very well with Antoinette…so Raffie and Maria might end up being my only achievement."

"Oh? Amir is striking out?" Erik was surprised by this, for the last time he saw them, they appeared joined at the hip.

"Not so much striking out…but let's just say he got hit with a foul ball and is a bit stunned," she laughed, doing her best to keep with the sports analogy. "But I predict that he will make an impressive comeback…as soon as Antoinette forgives him."

"Let us hope that she is as compassionate as you when it comes to such things," Erik stated. "Otherwise, I fear Amir will die a bachelor." He reached out and took her hand in his. "Dinner will be starting soon, we should find our table."

Yet just as they turned to do so, they ran directly into Phil Chaney and his wife, who happened to step directly in their path. The pair were ironically dressed as Bonnie and Clyde, complete with thirties style clothes and a plastic tommy-gun. Erik found Chaney's choice in costumes a bit in poor taste, but he said nothing. However, when the awkward silence continued, Christine chose to speak.

"Hello, Mr. Chaney," she greeted, finding it odd that Erik had not said a word. "I'm not sure if you remember me, we only met a few times, but I was a friend of Raoul's in school."

"Of course, Christine Daaé," he nodded, reaching out to shake her hand. "Though I hear from my brother that congratulations are in order…I take it this is your husband?"

"Yes, Erik Thorn," Christine said proudly. "Erik, this is Raoul's older brother, Phil."

"A pleasure," Erik said curtly, not even bothering to extend his hand in greeting.

"Mine as well," Phil responded, looking equally uncomfortable. "And may I introduce my wife, Rachel…and baby number three," he smiled, watching as his wife patted her protruding stomach.

"I told Phil I should have worn the costume of Humpty Dumpty, since at least _that_ would have hid my enormous size," Rachel laughed, either not noticing her husband's unease, or just choosing to ignore it.

"Nonsense," Christine objected. "You look beautiful just the way you are. How far along are you?"

"Six months, and eager to finally meet this little one," she smiled. "We already have two boys, so we are hoping this one will be a girl, but we've chosen not to find out till the big day."

"How exciting," Christine gushed. "I think that's the way to go…let it be a surprise. That's how I would want to do it as well." She couldn't help but sneak a glance at Erik as she said that, wondering what _he_ thought of the idea. Would he want to know in advance? Erik was not one who did well with secrets.

"How about you two? Any children…or perhaps one on the way?" Rachel asked, noting the looks they exchanged.

"No…not yet, we've only been married for a month," Christine admitted, her cheeks darkening at the rather personal question.

"Well, you never can tell," Rachel informed her. "Phil and I had our first only ten months after we got married. Isn't that right dear?"

"Yes, it is," Director Chaney nodded, doing his best to smile politely, but it was obviously forced. "We best let these two get to where they were going. It was very nice to see you again, Christine…Mr. Thorn."

"Mr. Chaney," Erik said with a nod, then taking hold of Christine's arm, he quickly led her away.

"What was _that_ all about?" she whispered, keeping her voice low. "I know you dislike Raoul, but what's Phil ever done to you?"

"Nothing. I simply do not care for the man, is all," he announced, not even looking at her as he spoke. "Let us leave it at that."

He was silent until they reached their table, their names typed out neatly on little place cards set on their plates. Erik pulled out Christine's chair and waited until she was seated before speaking.

"Would you like me to get you anything from the refreshment table before dinner begins?" he inquired.

"No, I'm fine," she insisted, patting the chair next to her invitingly. "Are you sure you're all right, Erik?" Christine questioned.

"Yes, Christine," he told her, doing his best to smile reassuringly as he took his seat. "How could I not be so, with you at my side? Are you sure you do not wish for anything? Another glass of champagne perhaps?"

"No, I think I will stick to your favorite beverage for now," she informed him.

"Oh…and what is that?" Erik asked.

"Water…with ice," she told him, picking up one of the glasses that were already filled on the table, her playful wink putting a genuine smile back on his face. And just like that, all of Erik's disquieting thoughts disappeared.

* * *

 **So the party has begun! It is a two part party...one more chapter was needed to get through the whole thing. ha ha.**

 **What did you all think of Amir's costume. I originally came up with the idea a long time ago, when you were all saying that Amir's ninja skills were being called into question when he let Christine spot him three times that first day he was following her. ha ha. AND Amir seems to be enjoying it too. Congratulations to all who guessed correctly.**

 **Did everyone like Meg and Raoul's costume choices? If you google "Ken and Barbie" costumes, you will see exactly what they looked like. I just couldn't resist after Erik said Raoul was Malibu Ken. ha ha.**

 **Poor Amir, he was doing so well with Antoinette...and then he had to get all possessive...has he learned nothing from Erik's mistakes?**

 **Sooooo, Joseph De'Rossi AND Phil Chaney are there too. What a pickle for Erik.**

 **More fun heading your way!**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Kristin:** Yep, Amir took the money gladly. He will loose it soon enough though, right? Ha ha, A dragon costume? He really WOULD be breathing fire then. ha ha. Yes, it was good that they fixed their issues quickly. Thanks.

 **Cayla: (for Chapter 44)** they do work well together, don't they? And any scene with Amir in it is bound to make you laugh a little. Amir is like Erik's brother, so I think Christine sees him as family. Yes, Raoul does really like Meg. And is even willing to meet Antoinette too. Hope you liked Amir's costume. Erik needs to keep opening up to Christine. **(for Chapter 45)** No...she should not do improv? Or lie, really, she sucks at it. Yes, Erik DID listen and they worked things out well enough, good for them. Yes, Christine is finaly admitting she is ready...she thinks. Ha ha, yes, Erik's knock is not subtle. Did you like Amir's costume? Thanks.

 **Guest:** Erik will indeed be very impressed with his wife when they tango...how could he NOT be? And if Antoinette will let him, Amir SHOULD ask her to dance. Yes, Christine has an idea what she was wearing, so she matched Amir up with her, sneaky right? Hope you enjoyed the first half of the ball. Thanks.

 **Katie B:** No...Erik and Christine are going as Zorro and his Spanish Flower. I THOUGHT of having them go as those iconic characters...but I wanted them to have a good reason for doing the Tango. ha ha. Red Death is not sexy at all...and I also wanted Christine to drool over her man. I hope you enjoyed how it went. Thanks!

 **GuestRP:** ha ha, Erik has TOO MANY secrets, right? And he can't be expected to keep Christine's as well, can he? ha ha. Yes, her saying Amir knew did work out well for him in the long run...he got $100. Erik did hold his temper, he sulked a bit, but he didn't yell or scream...or throw things. ha ha. I did love Guy Williams as Zorro! And Antonio Bandaras. ha ha. I would have LOVED to have made them dress as The Dread Pirate Roberts and Buttercup...but again, I wanted them to have a reason to dance the tango. And yes, Erik has already got to be a pirate. ha ha. Thanks.

 **PG4044:** It was a bit of a forced niceness...but it counts! And Amir likes money! I really hate to see a couple's issues fester. Rip that band-aid off and get it over with is to my liking. Oh, drat...I really hope I don't disappoint you when you read the tango description. I am NOT a dancer, and even after watching tons of YouTube videos, and looking up words on the internet to describe the dance, I feel like I didn't do it justice. I just hope you all have good imaginations. I do like the words you gave me...but I have NO IDEA what they mean. ha ha. Just please read it with a generous heart. Thanks.

 **GuestWraithSnake:** They ARE getting better at having honest conversations, aren't they. One would almost think they were a REAL married couple! ha ha. So...did his costume meet with your approval? Well, right now I don't think Amir is thinking of asking Antoinette on a date...she's kind of upset with him. ha ha. Of course something will happen at the ball...but as for good or bad, that remains to be seen. ha ha. You have a lot of questions, and most will be answered in the next several chapters. ha ha. Wait for it... Thanks!

 **Guest:** If a reader wishes to offer some constructive criticism, I am more than happy to take it and try to improve. Yet, if a person chooses to make unkind comments behind the mask of a guest reader - whom I am unable to respond to privately - then yes, I do tend to ignore them. I am just writing a story here, not looking to offend, upset, or get into any debates - especially not in a public forum such as this. I'm sorry if you do not care for my writing, not every story is for everyone, but no one is forcing you to read it either. Please accept my humble apologies for any offense my story has caused you. Respectfully, FP33


	47. Chapter 47

.

 **BONUS CHAPTER!**

 **.**

 **And I forgot to congratulate the four that guessed that Amir would be dressed like a ninja.**

 **la-femme-cavalier, Guest RP, Otterviolinfilm, and Winni.**

 **(If anyone else guessed Ninja and I missed it, let me know!)**

 **Good job!**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 47**

 **~X~**

* * *

It wasn't long before the M.C. they hired for the evening, stepped onto the slightly raised platform and announced that dinner was about to be served. Once everyone was seated, with only Amir and Antoinette joining them at the small, intimate table Erik had insisted be reserved for only the four of them, a rather nervous looking Raffie was coaxed to the microphone.

"Good evening, ladies and gentleman," he said, his voice cracking just slightly as he spoke. "For your dining pleasure, we at Raffie's Restaurant on Wilson Ave, have prepared a feast to delight your palate. We will start you off with an assortment of appetizers, followed by a delicious bowl of my own personal version of the Italian wedding soup." When a murmur of interest was heard wafting through the room, it appeared to give the man confidence, and he continued in a stronger tone. "For your main course, you will be served a savory stuffed chicken Marsala with sautéed mushrooms, all on a fluffy bed of rice, with oven baked bread on the side. For dessert, a generous slice of chocolate amaretti cake, or for those with a lighter palette, a dish of zabaglione with fresh berries. We have also chosen two different wines that will compliment your meal perfectly – a pleasing Casot dan Vian Chardonnay to start you off, and for the main course a Brunello Di Montalcino Il Greppo. We hope you enjoy." At this he nodded his head respectfully and left the stage, amid a round of excited applause.

"Well, everyone seems pleased by the menu," Christine leaned over and whispered to Erik.

"And I, for one, can't wait to taste it either," Amir grinned, eyeing the small plate of appetizers that was just set in the middle of their table by none other than Maria herself.

"Thank you," Erik told her politely, noticing the quick wink the waitress gave his wife before leaving. "What was that about?" he asked Christine.

"Oh, nothing, just something we were talking about earlier," she grinned, reaching for one of the items on the plate. "These look delicious!"

Erik realized that his wife was not about to divulge her secrets, so he didn't even bother to worm it out of her, instead he too chose one of the appetizers and popped it in his mouth.

"This is good," he said in a pleasing tone. "Try one of these, Amir." He then pointed to the item he had just sampled.

"No, not that one!" Antoinette said, reaching out to stop the Persian from helping himself. "Those have a mustard base, and I know you don't like mustard, Amir. This one would be more to your liking I think." Here Antoinette took the little serving spoon and slid a cheese filled morsel onto his plate with a smile.

"Thank you, Antoinette," he said, his tone full of shock and amazement, apparently deeply touched that she knew he didn't like mustard, and purposefully saved him from the offending food. "And please, you must know I meant nothing by what I said earlier. I _do_ consider you my friend…or at least I would like to. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you who Meg was dating the moment I found out, but honestly, it was only yesterday that I learned about it."

"No, it is I who should apologize to you, for I clearly overreacted," Antoinette insisted. "I was just nervous and on edge, meeting the first boy my daughter has ever liked well enough to introduce me to. I'm sorry that I took my frustrations out on you…that was unkind."

"Yet completely understandable," Amir assured her, just happy that he seemed forgiven.

"Actually, it turns out that this Raoul is not such a bad guy," Antoinette smiled. "And from the small amount of time I spent with them, he seems to genuinely wish to please Meg any way he can. Of course I will reserve my final judgment until after I know him better, but he has passed my initial inspection, and I've given Meg my approval to keep seeing him."

"Raoul will be so pleased, as I'm sure Meg was as well," Christine smiled.

When Erik opened his mouth, obviously prepared to give his own opinion of the boy, Christine gently kicked him under the table, giving him a stern glare.

"Were you going to say something, Erik?" Amir asked, completely aware of his friend's feelings for Raoul…and the fact that Christine didn't want him to say a word.

"No…no I suppose I was not," Erik said, his eyes narrowing as he shot his wife a warning glance.

"Good, since the soup is coming," Christine stated happily, eager to see Erik putting something in his mouth, and not having anything disparaging coming out.

.

.

The four of them ate and talked all through dinner, most of the conversation revolving around the delicious food being served. After dessert, Christine flagged down Maria and asked if Raffie might come out so that they could all offer their compliments to the chef. It wasn't long before the slightly blushing man emerged, looking a bit harried, but still very pleased.

"Raffie…you completely outdid yourself tonight!" Christine gushed. "I've always known you were a marvelous cook, but after tonight they will be beating down your door for reservations."

"It was indeed a very fine dinner," Erik agreed, lifting his glass in honor of the chef.

"Well, I'm the one who should be thanking you for the opportunity," Raffie said in a very pleased tone. "It was an honor to be asked." He then turned and gave Christine a wink. "And I know I have you to thank for suggesting me. I knew when I hired you that you would one day do me good. We sure miss you around the restaurant, but I believe you're now where you should be." Here he nodded his head just a bit towards Erik.

"And I hear that congratulations are in order for you and Maria," Christine grinned. "I'll be watching the mailbox for my invitation to the wedding."

"Don't worry, we would never forget to invite you two," Raffie laughed, yet when he spotted another table waving him over, he politely excused himself and walked away.

"I'm glad things are working out for Raffie. He really deserves a break after all the years he struggled to keep his little place afloat," Christine said with a happy sigh.

"You do seem to better people's lives wherever you go, my dear," Erik told her, reaching out and taking her hand in his, giving it a reverent kiss. "I know you have more than enriched mine."

Christine could only blush and avert her eyes, still not used to Erik's flattering words…but she loved them just the same.

.

.

The M.C. soon got up to speak again, reminding everyone to select their favorites for the best couples contest, as well as how they might obtain more chances to vote. He was just about to step down, when one of the waiters handed him a folded piece of paper, causing Erik's eyes to narrow with suspicion.

"What is that about, Antoinette?" he asked.

"I have no idea," she responded. "Nothing I have planned."

"Maybe someone just left their lights on in the parking lot?" Christine said hopefully. Yet as the M.C. continued, it became clear that it was something much worse.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have had a very generous donation offered towards tonight's charity," the man said with a wide smile. "An anonymous guest has agreed to offer five thousand dollars, if a Miss Carlotta De'Rossi would come up and entertain us with a song!" He began to clap his hands, signaling for everyone else to do so as well, in hopes of encouraging the woman to comply. "Will you do it, Miss De'Rossi?" he asked, his eyes searching the audience. "Come now, don't be shy, and remember, it is for a very good cause."

At last Carlotta stood up, a false blush of modesty on her cheeks as she made her way to the stage.

"I have not prepared anything, and I am overwhelmed that someone has offered so much for one small song from me," she said, attempting to appear humble. "But far be it from me to deny my fans. I will sing." And while the rest of the room applauded her generosity…Erik was not at all pleased.

"It had to be her idiotic uncle who offered the money!" he hissed. "I am not sure my ears can take it!"

"Is she really that bad?" Antoinette asked, never having heard the woman sing before.

"Oh, she's _that_ bad…and worse," Amir agreed, ripping pieces off his cocktail napkin and shoving them in his hears, before pulling up his ninja mask in hopes that it might help.

"Now, come on, we should at least be polite," Christine admonished. "After all, that's five thousand more for the charity. I think we can all sit through one song."

However, the moment Carlotta began to wail, startling most of the guests there, Erik gave a growl of frustration and stood up, leaving the table and storming towards the kitchen. Thankfully, their table was in one of the far corners, so hardly anyone noticed his hasty exit, and if they did, they were probably more jealous of Erik's escape than anything else.

"He's probably going to stick his head in one of the soup pots just to drown out her voice," Amir chuckled, still cringing at the pitchy high notes Carlotta was attempting.

"Maybe he should stick Carlotta's head in one instead," Antoinette suggested.

After what seemed like an eternity, the song ended, with a few moments of disbelieving silence, before everyone gave a halfhearted, yet polite, round of applause. Thankfully, Carlotta didn't seem to notice their lack of enthusiasm, and took several bows before returning to her seat, smiling from ear to ear.

"Thank Beethoven that is finally over!" Erik huffed, returning to his seat with a scowl on his face.

"Erik! That was beyond rude, leaving like that," Christine whispered. "She might not be very good, but remember, it was for charity."

"The charitable thing would have been to take her out with a tranquilizer dart and spare us all the horror of listening to that…that croaking toad," Erik corrected, not looking at all ashamed of himself.

"Still…at least it's over," she stated with a hum of disapproval.

"You may have spoken too soon," Antoinette warned, noticing that another note had just been handed to the M.C. "What horrors are we to be subjected to now?"

"Well…that was…lovely. Thank you, Miss De'Rossi," the man said, doing his best to sound sincere as he spoke into the microphone. "And it would appear that Carlotta's singing has inspired yet another generous offer of a donation."

At this, Carlotta stood up, giving everyone a look of surprise and embarrassment, thinking that she was about to be asked to sing once more.

"This time the offer is for one hundred-thousand dollars!" the M.C. stated, a gasp of surprise going around the room. "This amount will be given in exchange for one simple song…" he explained, as Miss De'Rossi began walking towards the stage. "…by a Mrs. Christine Thorn." Carlotta almost tripped and fell when her name was not spoken, causing her to gasp and sputter, before rushing back to her seat in humiliation.

"WHAT?" Christine gasped, suddenly all eyes on her. "Me? I can't get up there and sing!"

"Of course you can, Christine," Erik encouraged, now all smiles. "Were you not the one who just said it was for charity…and that is the reason we are here tonight? Will you deprive the children's hospital the extra funds simply because of your stage fright?"

Christine looked at Erik with narrowed eyes. "You did this, didn't you? You offered the donation!"

"Guilty as charged," he confessed. "But if De'Rossi can do it, so can I…only bigger and better. Now I've taken care of everything, just go up and sing."

"Come on, Christine, get up there and show them what a real singer sounds like," Antoinette urged.

"Yes, don't let these people leave here tonight with a sour stomach," Amir told her, pulling the napkin bits out of his ears, eager to hear every note this time.

"They're waiting, Christine," Erik pointed out, as the room began to clap encouragingly, urging her to take the stage. It was evident they were only being polite this time, apparently fearing a repeat performance of what they had just heard, but Erik knew they were about to be pleasantly surprised. "Go on, my dear. Knock them dead."

"You're lucky I don't knock _you_ dead right now for this," she hissed, pasting on a false smile, yet getting to her feet and making her way to the microphone. When she stood there, like a deer in the headlights, looking out at all the expectant faces, she was comforted to hear Erik's voice in her left ear, soothing her fears and calming her nerves.

 _"You will do wonderfully, my dear, just like at the recital,"_ he said. _"Forget about everyone else and once more…just sing for me."_

When the band began to play, and the familiar melody of Con te partirò touched her ears, Christine instantly became calm and hit her entrance, right on cue. Just as before, she focused on Erik, singing each note and each word solely for him, her teacher, her husband, and her friend. As the music soared and her voice rose to join it, singing both the female's part as well as the male's, Christine found her heart was bursting with something other than pride… _it was love._ Love for Erik, for his generosity, and his devotion to her. For everything a husband was supposed to be, and suddenly she knew…she knew without a shadow of a doubt that tonight would be the night that she would give more than just her voice to the man sitting in the corner wearing a Zorro mask and cape. Tonight she would willingly…no, _gladly_ …offer him her body as well!

.

.

When the song was over, there was no pause, no hesitation at all, as everyone rose to their feet and clapped so loudly that a few of the older ones had to adjust their hearing aids. Many called for an encore, yet Christine politely declined, doing her best to slink back to her seat, yet she was halted at every table as the guests plied her with compliments over her lovely voice. When she at last flopped back into her chair, Erik couldn't help but lean over, pulling her to him as he kissed the side of her head.

"I knew you would impress them, my little angel of music," he stated. "And it was worth every penny and then some, to not only hear you sing, but to see the look of humiliation on Carlotta's face."

"Still…next time, a little more notice would be nice," she insisted, loving how proud he seemed of her.

"I will try, but this was a bit of a spur of the moment thing," he explained, not appearing at all guilty over his actions. "Yet you triumphed once again…as you will always do."

.

.

The dance floor was opened up next, allowing the guests to work off some of their dinner by spinning their partners around the room. Many people dropped by their table, keeping Erik and Christine hostage to their compliments, while Amir and Antoinette headed off to dance and mingle. Even Raoul and Meg were brave enough to offer their congratulations on a job well done. Erik eyed Agent Chaney with a look of utter contempt the entire time, but refrained from saying anything rude…at least out loud.

"I wasn't at all surprised by your stellar performance, Christine," Raoul told her. "I heard you at the recital, so I knew everyone was going to be bowled over, but still…you rocked it."

"And oh, the look on that Carlotta girl's face…it was priceless," Meg laughed. "I thought she was going to choke on her own tongue when you began to sing. It was to die for!"

"Thank you both, and I'm just glad that the children's hospital gets a bit more money out of all this," she smiled. "Now, have you two already voted for best couples' costume?"

"Yep," Meg smiled. "And even though I think you two look awesome, I kind of felt obligated to vote for my mom," she giggled. "Her and that ninja guy really do make an adorable couple, don't you think?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do," Christine grinned. "And I voted for the two of you!"

"You are too kind," Raoul chuckled. "So, Meg…how about you show me some of those fancy dance moves I know you have?"

"With pleasure, Raoul," she told him, grabbing his hand and practically dragging him out onto the floor.

Once they were alone at last, Christine leaned over, placing her head on Erik's shoulder with a contented sigh.

"Thank you, Erik," she told him, patting his chest with her hand.

"For what, my dear?" he questioned, loving how she no longer showed any fear of being near him, or touching him in any way.

"For making me get up there like that, it was rather exhilarating," she admitted. "I do love to sing, but never so much as when you are there listening to me."

"I will always be here listening to you, Christine," Erik promised. "For I would never wish to be anywhere else."

"And thank you for not saying anything rude to Raoul," she continued. "I think it would really upset Meg to know that you don't like him…she is rather enamored of you."

"She is?" well, that was news to Erik. "I have hardly spoken to the young Miss Giry more than a dozen times in all the years her mother has been working for me."

"Well, she's fully aware that you supplement the money needed for her tuition, as well as how much you have assisted her mother over the years," Christine revealed. "She calls you The Great and Powerful Mr. Thorn, you know. And you could very well be the closest thing she's ever had to a caring father."

"Well, _that_ is rather disturbing," he snorted. "The girl needs to seek elsewhere if she is looking for a paternal figure in her life."

"Perhaps someone like…Amir?" Christine hinted, subtly pointing to her Persian bodyguard dancing with Erik's legal counsel.

"Antoinette could do worse, I suppose," Erik shrugged. "And unfortunately has. Thus I would say Amir is a step in the right direction."

"Oh, you old softie," she giggled, patting his chest lightly with her fingertips. "I knew there was a heart in there somewhere."

"One that beats only for you, Christine," Erik assured her, leaning in to give her a very long and passionate kiss.

.

.

The happy couple at last made it out onto the dance floor, with Christine finally getting to see how Erik's black cape looked as he spun her around. Everyone was having a marvelous time, except Carlotta, who was now often seen with a scowl on her face, glaring at Christine with murder in her eyes. But neither one of them noticed, far too happy and wrapped up in each other.

.

.

Later, when the winners of the costume contest were announced, no one was at all shocked to hear Erik and Christine's name called out from the platform. Yet, true to his word, Erik graciously declined, stating that it was unfair that the host of the party took home the prize. Thus the second place winners, who came as King Kong and Fay Ray, were moved up to first, as was the third to second, who just happened to be Meg and Raoul. The shocked couple were tickled when they found themselves taking home a gift certificate for a couple's spa day at the Cornelia on the upper east side of Manhattan. The new third place winners had been chosen for their rather charming version of Alice in Wonderland and the Mad Hatter. And even though Amir and Antoinette didn't win a prize, they looked quite happy with how the evening had turned out.

The children's hospital, who was the designated charity for the night, also walked away with an enormous check, shocking everyone with the amount of funds raised that evening. Erik was congratulated by many, stating it was the most money ever raised at one of these functions.

As the hour became late, Christine knew she needed to execute her plan for the tango soon…before she chickened out. Yet, just the idea of sharing this seductive dance with Erik set her body on fire, one she was in no hurry to put out. So, making up her mind, she excused herself, claiming she needed to use the restroom, and slipped away, grabbing Meg on her way by.

"I'm gunna do it!" she told her friend in a hushed whisper. "It's time for the tango."

"All right, I'll go inform the band," Meg told her with glee. "You just give me the signal when you're ready."

"Let me make a quick trip to the restroom first," Christine begged. "The last thing I want to be worrying about out there is how much I had to drink tonight."

"All right…I'll be ready!" and giving her friend a hug, she dashed off.

Christine made her way to the lady's room, finding that doing her business was not very easy in such a long and ruffled dress, but she managed without any accidents. Yet when she emerged from the restroom, she was surprised, and a bit dismayed, to find Carlotta standing outside in the hallway. She was leaning forward, only inches away from the floor to ceiling mirrors on the wall, reapplying her bright red lipstick. Christine tried to ignore her, keeping her eyes averted as she hurried by, but the woman was having none of that. Spinning quickly, Carlotta stepped in her way, blocking her path.

"So…you think you're a better singer than me, do you?" she sneered, taking a step closer and forcing Christine to retreat. "Well, let me tell you something, _Mrs. Thorn_ …you will never get the best of Carlotta De'Rossi! The only reason you even made it into Juilliard is because your monster of a husband bought your way in."

Christine was stunned…had that woman just dared to insult Erik so blatantly? She couldn't honestly care less what Carlotta thought of her voice, but to say such things about her husband was crossing a line. What kind of horrible creature was she? Yet if there was any doubt in Christine's mind, Carlotta's next words quickly removed it.

"You know, bets were being placed all over town that Erik Thorn would never find a woman willing to bed him with that hideous face he hides behind that mask. Assuming he is a man at all and not some hideous creature from the black lagoon." she laughed. "I know I would never touch him, no matter how much money he offered me. But it would appear that even the ugliest dog has his day." She gave a rather evil laugh at her turn of phrase, yet any mirth was suddenly cut short as Christine's fist made contact with her overly rouged cheek. Stumbling backwards, Carlotta's heel caught on her dress and she fell rather awkwardly onto her large backside, with her hooped skirt ballooning up and exposing everything underneath. As the stunned woman fought to push her dress back down, flailing around like a turtle stuck on its back, Christine laid into her.

"You horrible witch!" she screamed, standing over her like an avenging angel. "How dare you say such things about a man you don't even know! Erik is more of a man than anyone you would ever hope to meet, and he wouldn't touch a rotten old hag like you with a ten foot pole! Any woman would be thrilled to call him her husband, and I consider myself the luckiest woman in the world that he chose me! I wouldn't trade Erik for all the gold in Fort Knox, so you can just take your disgusting forked tongue and shove it where the sun don't shine! And if I _ever_ hear you say anything disparaging about my amazing husband again, you'll find out that little tap I gave you is the least of your worries …understand?" When Carlotta gave no response, just lay there staring at Christine in fear, she made a threatening move towards her. "I said… _do you understand me?"_

"Yes! Yes! Please don't hurt me!" she cried, curling up into a little ball, covering her face with her arms for protection.

"Just remember what I said and then perhaps I won't have to!" Christine spat. She then reached down and took hold of the woman's arm, pulling her to her feet and pushing her towards the bathroom door. "Now, get in there, put some cool water on your cheek, and stop acting like a big baby. People like you give women a bad name!" When the door shut behind Carlotta, Christine gave a huff of derision and turned to leave, rounding the mirrored corner, only to run directly into a wide eyed Erik. For a moment the two simply stared at one another, until Christine realized he must have heard every hurtful word that hag had just said.

"Oh, Erik…" she gasped, afraid that he would insist on leaving that very instant after such a vicious attack on his character. "Don't believe a word Carlotta said…none of it was true."

"I do not give a damn what Carlotta said," Erik whispered, his voice full of shock. "But…did you truly mean what _you_ said? About how you… _feel_ about me?"

Christine's look of fear suddenly turned to one of understanding, knowing exactly whose words Erik had been focused on… _hers!_ Taking a step forward, Christine reaching up on her tiptoes and covered his lips with her own, allowing her actions to speak for her. At first he was too stunned to move, yet within moments he had his arms wrapped around her, desperately pulling Christine against him, as if he could not get close enough. It was a kiss filled with both passion and desire, fanning the flames within her that had been building all evening. When they finally broke, she reached up and ran her fingers across his jaw and down his neck.

"I meant every word, Erik," she assured him. "Every last word. And…tonight, when we get home, I plan on showing you exactly how I feel about you."

"You…you mean…?" Erik swallowed hard, trying to keep the joy and anticipation out of his voice.

"Yes, I am ready to fulfill the contract, Erik," she told him with a wide smile. "I want to be your wife in every way possible. I don't want to wait the full two months."

"And I am not sure I can wait a second longer myself," Erik admitted, wanting nothing more than to scoop her up and whisk her away. "Let us now…leave this moment, no one will miss us."

"Oh, Erik, I would agree to anything you proposed," she said with a nervous laugh. "But before we go, there's something I have to do…or else I will always regret not doing so."

And taking him by the hand, she led him down the hallway and back out to the ballroom. From across the room she spied Meg, standing beside the bandleader, and when she saw Christine nod her head, she whirled around and gave him the go ahead. With practiced skill, the band wrapped up the current song they were playing, causing everyone to filter to the sides, waiting for the next one to begin. Yet when it did, most recognizing it as the sultry, but difficult, tango, and no one dared reenter the dance floor…except one. _Christine._

 _._

 _._

Erik was stunned…what was his shy little flower doing? She had once told him she had no idea how to dance the tango, yet here she was, out in the middle of the floor, kicking back her heel in an invitation, before striking the very pose one did when about to perform the dance. Erik could not let her remain out there alone!

Unhooking his cape, Erik tossed it onto a nearby chair, and then, with a flip of his wrist, he sent his hat skittering across the room, not even caring where it landed. Next he strode out to meet her with slow easy steps, already feeling the heat and friction that electrified the space between them. When he was close enough, he allowed the back of his fingers to begin at her cheek, then slide ever so seductively down her neck, her shoulders, and to the very end of her arm, stopping at her hand, which he gently took in his own. Then with one swift motion, his other hand came to rest on her bare back, a shot of lightning going through him at the touch of her skin. The next thing he knew, they were flush against each other, their feet beginning that back and forth motion as they moved across the floor.

Everyone had stopped what they were doing and stared at the sensual couple as the two practically made love on the dance floor. With each spin, each turn, Christine could feel Erik's eyes holding her captive, never allowing her to look away. At one point he picked her up with one arm, resting her body on his hip as he spun her around, his other arm held out wide, where upon he set her down and she leaned in, nearly reclining on his extended leg. Then they snapped back to position as he spun her under his arm several times in quick succession, bringing her back to him with a powerful tug, their chests colliding in a wave of pleasurable friction. Again and again, they glided across the floor, their bodies mirroring each other as they moved in synchronized elegance. As the music neared the end, Erik spun Christine away from him once again, bringing her back to him as he wrapped his left arm around her waist, took hold of her right hand and dipped her very slowly, his strong arms never allowing her to fear she might fall.

And as the last strains of the music faded into silence, and the spectators burst out in loud cheers and applause, Erik heard none of it…only the four most perfect words he could ever imagine.

"Take me home, Erik," Christine whispered, seconds before his lips came crashing down upon hers in a kiss that held a world of promise within its touch.

* * *

 **Well...THAT was a full night, now wasn't it? But something tells me it ain't over yet!**

 **So, did you enjoy the dinner Raffie served?**

 **Amir and Antoinette made up and danced quite a bit too! Too bad they didn't win the costume contest though, Amir sounded like he really wanted to eat at that Japanese restaurant.**

 **Raoul and Meg took second place!**

 **Carlotta was a real pip, now wasn't she? Evil woman! But Christine told her! And best of all, Erik heard her loving words. Did anyone notice that he was hiding behind a mirror...or a mirrored corner at least. ha ha. It is Erik's signature move, and favorite place to hide.**

 **Ok, how did the tango go? I did the best I could to describe the sexy dance...and Erik seemed very, very impressed with Christine having learned it for him.**

 **More fun to come! See you Monday!**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **LazyToUseMyAcc:** Ha ha, I know the feeling, sometimes it is just toooo much work to sign in. Glad you are enjoying it and sorry you have to wait for new chapters...but I DO have to write them first, ha ha. I hate waiting too...but sometimes we must. Yes, Erik and Christine are very cute, and just when I think I've written them in every way possible, another idea comes to my mind. ha ha. Thanks...and was THIS quick enough for you? ha ha.

 **GuestWraithSnake:** Glad you liked Amir's costume. Yes, Erik is possessive, but Christine is not going anywhere, nope, not at all. I think as a general rule, Erik can't stand the name Chaney (or de Chagny). Odious to the extreme? ha ha, that made me laugh. Don't worry, you are not getting ahead of yourself, and I love your insightful questions, sometimes thinking of things that no one else has thought of...often even ME. ha ha. But most of what you are wondering about are going to be happening soon, so you won't have to remain curious for long...or will you...ha ha. I could so hear Agnes saying that from Despicable Me. ha ha. And no reason at all to apologize...I LOVE questions! Thanks for your continued reviews, you're awesome. Ha ha, was the dance "Wow, mamma, looky, looky" enough for ya? I just couldn't resist making Raoul Ken, espeicaly after Erik called him that earlier. Not sure what DWTS is...can you clue me in? Thanks!

 **GuestRP:** I wish I could give you a free snippet card for your guess about Amir being a Ninja. Ever thought about getting an account? Erik has one or two enemies...or one or two hundred, ha ha. Well, if a ninja showed up in your living room, wouldn't you automatically expect trouble? ha ha. Every one wanted Erik and Amir to whip out their blades and have a duel...but I just can't see Erik doing that. Amir, yes...Erik, no. As you see, Antoinette and Amir made up. Liked that Spanish Fox line did ya? Me too. Yah, I thought about letting Gerald hit Amir, but a ninja with a black eye would not instill a lot of confidence about his skills. Glad you enjoyed Ken and Barbie. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Katie B:** Yes, Red Death did have a hot body...but no lips. ha ha. I did LOVE him in Point of No Return! Now THAT was a hot scene! Thanks.


	48. Chapter 48

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 _ **WARNING: I posted a bonus chapter on Saturday, don't read out of order.**_

 **Also, I am very far behind on my responses again...throwing in a Bonus chapter will do that I guess. ha ha**

.

 **Well, Folks...this is my longest chapter so far!  
**

 **Enjoy**

 **.**

 **Chapter 48**

 **~X~**

* * *

Christine could feel her cheeks flushed with excitement as Erik returned her to a standing position, her heart beating wildly from the sensuous dance. Oh, it had been everything she had dreamed it would be and more. To stare into Erik's eyes and feel the heat of his passion expressed within his fluid movements, had left her breathless. It had never felt like _that_ when she practiced with Meg! Now more than ever, Christine couldn't wait to get him home and rip that black outfit off of him!

Yet, as the blood rushing through her veins calmed, and her ears became attuned to the noises around her, Christine noticed that everyone in the room was clapping, cheering, giving cat-calls and whistling at the two of them. She even spotted Meg, standing on the sidelines, her cell phone pointed in their direction and a wide smile on her face. She gave her friend a wink, waggling her phone at Christine as if to say 'I got the whole thing on video'.

However, when Christine stared into Erik's amber eyes, and saw the complete adoration shining there, she couldn't help but smile as well. Who cared if everyone knew she desired her husband? It was something Christine was proud of, and wanted to show it to the world. So, showing no signs of embarrassment, she faced the crowd and gave a deep curtsy, next gestured to Erik, watching as he gallantly bowed as well. Then with a wave, she grabbed his hand and pulled him from the dance floor, making a b-line for the door.

"Call Gerald," she instructed, stopping only long enough for one of the guests to hand Erik his cape and hat. "Tell him to bring the car around…we're going home!"

She got no argument from Erik, as he removed his cell phone from his pocket and tapped the screen. They had just made it to the front doors when Gerald picked up, his voice easily heard through the speaker.

"Bring the limo out front, Christine and I are leaving," he spoke into the phone, his voice deep and sultry to his wife's ears.

"No can do, boss," came Gerald's reluctant reply. "Some jerk backed into the car parked in front of me and they have me boxed in while they argue about whose fault it is. I'll see if I can hurry this along, but it might be a few minutes."

"Damn!" Erik hissed, feeling as if the whole world was out to ruin his night with Christine. Here she was, at last willing to make his dreams come true, and he couldn't get her home! He briefly considered turning back around and demanding the finest suite the Mason Hotel had to offer, but Erik had long dreamed of making love to Christine for the first time in their own bed. And above all else, he wanted this night to be perfect.

"It's all right," Christine said with a flirtatious smile. "I won't be changing my mind…we can wait a bit."

"Maybe _you_ can!" Erik growled, thinking of hailing a cab. But before he could even raise his hand to do so, he spotted a group of reporters and photographers looking their direction. "Oh, hell," he muttered, not at all in the mood to fend off an unruly mob of glory hounds. And with the two of them in costume, no one would recognize them as Erik Thorn and his wife…and know they were off limits! "Come on!" he hissed, taking her by the hand and dragging her down the sidewalk, away from the now approaching reporters.

They raced to the end of the block, the sound of footsteps behind them, then turned the corner and hurried down an alley to the left. Erik spotted a little alcove, leading to some backdoor of a business and pulled Christine into it, wrapping his black cape around her and shielding her within the shadows. When they heard the group of paparazzi run by, not noticing them as they hid, Erik and Christine gave a sigh of relief.

"Are they gone?" Christine whispered.

"It would appear so," Erik nodded, leaning out just a bit to see that the alleyway was now clear. He went to step out, but a pair of insistent hands held him back.

"Where are you going so fast?" she teased. "You have a girl alone in a dark alley and you're not even going to try and take advantage of the situation? What kind of rogue are you?"

"A very foolish one it would seem," Erik chuckled, pushing her back against the metal door and running his hands up and down her arms seductively. "Would my little Spanish flower enjoy being kissed by Zorro…here in the moonlight?"

"She would enjoy being kissed by him _anywhere_ ," she giggled, lacing her fingers behind his head, eager for the taste of him once more.

"Anywhere?" he teased, his finger touching her lips, and then allowing it to slide down her chin, her neck, and coming to rest just above the swell of her breasts.

"I meant physical location…not where on my person!" she said with pleased surprise. "My but you've become bold."

"It must be the costume," he told her, not having bothered to remove his finger from where it had wandered. "As well as the dance we shared…and words I heard you speak to Carlotta tonight. You have no idea what they meant to me, Christine. I could hardly believe my ears."

"Believe them…for they were all true," she assured him. And becoming tired of waiting for him to ravish her, she in turn reaching up and claimed his lips.

The kiss was full of fire, with his hands desperate to touch everywhere, roaming over her back, in her hair and even down to the curve of her hips, pulling her to him with a desperate need.

Yet when Christine felt his…need, pressing against her, telling her exactly what Erik was thinking, she managed to pull back, looking up in his eyes and giving him a wide smile.

"I think we best continue this somewhere more private, Erik," she suggested.

"I agree," he nodded. "For I will not be taking you the first time against a door in some back alley!" He then gave her a sly little wink. "Perhaps we will save that for the tenth…or twentieth time."

"OH Erik!" she gasped, doing her best to appear scandalized. "I thought you said you weren't into any kinky stuff?"

"My dear Christine," Erik chuckled. "If you think _that_ is kinky…then you are in for quite a shock." And before she could argue, he took her hand once more and began to lead her down the alley away from the Empire building, figuring that this was where the reporters returned to.

When they reached the end, Erik looked up and down the street, doing his best to choose a direction with the least amount of people loitering around.

"We will find a quiet street and then call Amir, telling him to come get us," he informed her, heading now to the right as they tried to remain inconspicuous. However, even dressed like Zorro and a flamenco dancer barely drew a second look, for New Yorkers were used to seeing just about everything on the streets this late at night.

"But Amir came with us, and Gerald's blocked in," Christine reminded him.

However, Erik was already dialing as they rounded yet another corner, leading down a dimly lit alley. When Amir answered he sounded confused.

"Where did you two run off to?" he asked, not bothering to even say hello. "One minute you're on the dance floor and the next moment you're nowhere to be found."

"We wished to get home," Erik informed him. "Yet Gerald's limo is blocked in and we had to make a run for it from a mob of reporters."

"Where are you now?" Amir's tone now sounded concerned.

"In an alley between Sixty-First Street and Hillcrest," Erik told him. "Borrow Antoinette's car and come get us," he instructed. "We'll wait for you here."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Amir told him, before hanging up.

"Now we wait," Erik said with a sigh, looking around as he frowned, noting the disreputable state of the area they were now in. This was not good.

"Shall we pick up where we left off?" Christine asked, reaching for Erik seductively, yet when he stopped her short, holding up his hand, she stuck her bottom lip out in a pout.

"Not here, Christine," Erik warned, his tone now serious.

" _Now_ you suddenly get shy?" she huffed. "Where's that Spanish Rogue from a few minutes ago?"

"Christine…I think we should head back to the hotel," Erik said suddenly, his keen ears picking up the sound of something he didn't like at all. "It is not safe here."

"Erik?" Christine was instantly worried, and moved closer to him, her eyes darting around.

"Keep quiet, Christine, and stay beside me," Erik whispered, taking her by the hand and heading for the far end of the alley, his hand slipping inside a hidden pocket of his cape. Before they had gone more than ten steps, the sound of boots on the pavement could be heard behind them, causing Erik to quicken the pace. However, the way ahead quickly became blocked as well, by three dark silhouettes, each one holding what appeared some kind of weapon.

"Erik!" Christine squeaked, now clutching his arm with a vicelike grip. "What are we going to do?"

"You're gunna hand over your money, your phones, and that sparkly little bauble around the pretty lady's neck," came a voice from behind them, causing Erik to turn to the side. He did his best to keep Christine behind him, and his eyes on both groups approaching them. There were three to his left and four to his right, not the most he had ever taken on at one time…yet still not something he was looking forward to. Yet he would not let Christine come to harm, no matter what!

"I would turn around and leave right now, if I were you," Erik hissed, his tone full of venom.

"Well, I ain't you, buddy," the man spoke again, apparently the leader of the group. "Now…are we gunna do this peaceful like…or the hard way?"

Erik knew there was no way they were getting out of this without a fight, but he would not risk Christine's life in the process. So throwing his voice, he sent his instructions directly into her ear, where she alone could hear it.

 _"When I attack, make a run for it, Christine,"_ he ordered. _"Get as far away from here as you can."_

"What…no!" she gasped, clinging to him even tighter. "I won't leave you!"

 _"You will do as I say!"_ he demanded. _"When I tell you to…run! And don't look back, no matter what!"_

When Erik made no move to comply with their assailant's demands, the man stepped into the glow of the streetlight, revealing his rough looking face, and the wicked knife in his hand.

"The hard way then," he surmised, giving his comrades a sinister smile, before lunging at Erik.

Christine let out a scream as Erik pushed her back with one hand, while grabbing the arm of the man with his other.

"Now, Christine!" he yelled. "RUN!"

Yet she was rooted to the spot, unable to move or speak as she heard a horrible snapping sound and then the clatter of the knife hitting the ground, followed by the cry of pain from the attacker. Violently pulling the man to him, Erik plunged his knee into his stomach, taking all the fight out of him. Then with a quick fist to his face, the man was on the ground and out cold, his hand now at a very unhealthy angle, betraying a broken wrist. Two more thugs rushed forward, but before the first one could get close, Erik's hand shot out and the man was suddenly on his knees, his fingers digging at his throat, as if he were being strangled by something. The second assailant was met by Erik's knuckles to his jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground, unconscious. Giving a quick glance at the other assailant, Erik watched him sway and pass out, apparently losing consciousness from lack of air.

This left four men remaining, and as a couple of them came at him from both sides, Erik whipped off his cape, throwing it over the head of the first as his legs struck out and kicked the second in the front of his knee…again a cracking sound filling the alleyway. Dropping to the ground, the man howled in pain as he gripped his now useless appendage. That left only three still standing, none of them quite sure how to go about taking out this formidable opponent. Yet one of them got smart, and when Erik was once more rushed from both sides, the third slipped behind and went for Christine…or more precisely, her necklace.

"ERIK!" she cried out, stumbling backwards in an attempt to avoid the villain's groping hands. Christine felt her back hit a brick wall as her eyes darted to the sides, looking for anything she could use to defend herself. Spotting a broken umbrella sticking out of a nearby trash can, Christine grabbed it and held it out in front of her, doing her best to keep the man at bay.

Erik had heard her cry and jerked around, a shout of rage at seeing her still there and now in danger. _Why hadn't she run like he told her to?_ While desperate to get to Christine, he was halted by the other two dirt-bags, grabbing him by the shoulders and spinning him around as one of them delivered several punishing blows to his stomach. Another strike to his back had Erik down on his hands and knees, gasping for breath as he struggled to rise, yet the two men quickly ganged up on him, kicking and punching, leaving him no way to protect himself.

"Come on honey, stop making such a fuss and give me the stones," the creep advancing on Christine said, feigning to the left and then the right in order to get around her rather pathetic weapon. "Give us what we want, and no one's gunna hurt you… _much."_ He punctuated his vile remark with a laugh, just before lunging forward and grabbing the tip of the umbrella, pulling her to him. Wrenching it out of her hand, he spun her around, wrapping his arms around her torso and pinning her arms to her sides with a viselike hold. "Now…how's about you hand over that pretty bauble of yours?"

"ERIK!" Christine screamed as one of the man's hands began to slither around her neckline, his filthy fingers landing in places they had no business being. Yet during his efforts, the vile man's grip loosened just a bit, allowing her lean forward and bite down on his arm as hard as she could.

"You damned little vampire! You bit me!" he yelled, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her head away from his arm, before shoving her forward into the stone wall in retaliation.

Christine hit the brick barrier with a thud, her cry of pain piercing the alleyway and making its way to Erik's ears. Losing her balance she stumbled to the ground, doing her best to scramble backwards, away from the angry man now examining the angry red mark on his arm with a look of rage.

Erik had the wind knocked out of him, and spots were now dancing before his eyes, but at the sound of Christine's cry, everything else flew from his mind. _He had to protect her!_ Collapsing onto the ground, he rolled away, causing one of the men to stumble backwards, offering him a way out. Once he was clear, Erik sprang to his feet, leaping forward and ramming the man in front of him with his shoulder. The force drove the thug backwards into a bunch of garbage cans, ending feet up in the middle of the metal containers and trash.

Upon seeing his friend was down, Erik's second attacker raced up from behind, but Erik anticipated his move, and swung around, his elbow making contact with the man's face. He could feel the sickening crunch as it broke bone and cartilage, sending the wretched filth to the ground in a bloody heap. Knowing this one was now either out for the count, or sufficiently stunned, Erik whipped around to search out Christine. She was still crawling backwards, as her now enraged attacker advanced on her, this time with murder in his eyes. Yet as Erik went to her aid, he lost sight of the man he had tossed into the garbage cans…which turned out to be a huge mistake.

Erik had always hated wearing a mask, for many reasons, but mostly due to the fact that it hindered his peripheral vision. Thus, he was unable to see that the man had made it back to his feet, nor did he see his hand as it snaked out on his right side. More than likely, he had been going for a fist full of hair in order to stop him, but instead, the thug's fingers wound around the strings holding the mask in place. As the cloth barrier was ripped away, Erik's face was left exposed for all to see, the streetlamp directly above allowing everyone a perfect view of his hideous face.

The man who had stolen his mask gave a cry of shock and disgust, taking several steps back, unable to believe what he was now looking at. This caused the one pursuing Christine to look over as well, he too going still as he stared at the monstrosity before him. Yet Erik's eyes instantly sought out Christine…silently pleading that she look away, to not now see what was on display before her.

.

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For a moment, time stood still, as Christine gazed directly at Erik, her wide eyes unable to do anything but stare. For all the ways she had imagined his face might appear…nothing had prepared her for how bad it truly was. Where his left side was normal…the right was the polar opposite. There was hardly a nose to speak of, just some mutilated looking protrusion with two misaligned holes that offered him the ability to breathe. His right eye was surrounded by grey flesh, pale and nearly see-through, looking more like velum than skin, while his cheek was both a mixture of sinew and veins, stretched too thinly over jutting bone.

So _this_ was what Erik had been hiding from her, what he had never wished for her to see. And as she caught the look of horror and humiliation in her husband's eyes…at that very moment, Christine wished she had never seen it either. Her heart broke to see him look so defeated, so crushed…was it _all_ her fault. If she'd run like Erik had told her to do…would he have ever been unmasked by that horrible man? Overcome by guilt for her part in all this, Christine looked away, not wishing for him to see her shame.

.

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Erik felt his world crumble, his heart shatter into a million pieces, as he watched the blood drain from Christine's face, before she turned her head. She was now afraid of him, horrified by what she saw…and Erik didn't blame her one bit. With a roar like an injured lion, he broke from his trance and spun around, attacking the man holding his mask. With a violent punch to the gut, Erik sent the man to the ground, the force of the blow causing him to roll a few feet away, temporarily stunned and unable to rise.

But Erik had already turned back to the bastard going after Christine, watching as she kicked with her feet and threw random objects at the man, doing her best to halt his approach. Grabbing the slime-ball around his neck, Erik slammed him against the wall, his feet dangling a few inches off the ground as he gasped for air.

"I warned you!" Erik told the man he held in his iron grip. "I advised you to turn around and leave, but you chose not to listen! Then you dare to touch my wife? You do not deserve to live!" He watched with morbid satisfaction as the man's face began to turn blue and his eyes rolled back into his skull. However, before he could finish the job, there came a voice behind him.

"Let him go!" shouted the man who had ripped off Erik's mask, as he was just now stumbling to his feet, one arm wrapped around his middle as if nursing a broken rib or two. Yet as he rose, his other hand pulled a gun from some hiding place on him, bringing it up as he aimed it directly at Christine. "Let Vic go or I swear I'll put a cap in your slut here!" he threatened. "I don't know what kind of crazy freak of nature you are, but I'll be damned if I let you walk out of this alive!"

"Then damned you shall be," Erik growled, releasing the man and dropping him to the ground, where he choked and gasped for breath, but remained down. Erik then calmly stepped in front of Christine, shielding her from danger as he slowly began to stalk towards the man holding the gun. He was prepared to lay down his own life in order to save hers, ready to charge the man and risk taking a bullet in the chest if it meant Christine got away safely. He watched the thug aim the gun at him, his finger hovering over the trigger, ready to end his life…yet thankfully, the shot never came.

For just then, down the alleyway came a speeding car, never slowing a bit as it aimed right for the man holding the gun. Their would-be attacker leapt out of the way just in time, as the car skidded to a stop, the door flying open as out jumped Amir. Not even breaking stride, he plowed into the man with the gun, knocking him to the ground as he struck him multiple times in the face, causing him to drop his weapon. Three more punches and the thug was out, leaving Amir breathing hard and high on adrenalin. Once he knew the man was no longer a threat, the Persian got to his feet, looking around in concern.

"Erik! Christine!" he cried, racing over as he stood beside his friend, his eyes assessing the damage, ready to leap to their defense once again if any of the assailants made a move. Thankfully, each one was either out cold, or in too much pain to rise. "Are you two all right? I came as fast as I could."

"Well… _they_ were faster," Erik growled, looking at the seven men sprawled out over the alley.

"Erik…your mask," Amir breathed, suddenly noticing it missing from his friend's face. He then looked past Erik's shoulder, seeing Christine huddled against the wall, her arms now wrapped around her knees and her eyes wide with fright. "Did…did she see?" he whispered, his heart going out to his friend.

"She did," Erik muttered, his tone now as dark as death.

"Maybe she will…" but Amir was cut off by Erik's harsh tone.

"No…she will not," he informed him sadly, recalling how she had turned away from him earlier. All he wanted to do at this moment was go to her, take her in his arms and hold her till all her fears were gone…but he knew that could never be. She feared him now, and he would never feel the warmth of her lips upon his ever again. "I need to get Christine out of here." He turned his head just a bit, daring to look in her direction for the first time since she saw his face. "I think she is in shock."

"Yes…of course," Amir nodded, taking in Christine's pale complexion and wide dilated eyes, staring straight ahead, yet seeing nothing. "Take the car, I'll call the cops and clean up this mess. Let me take care of everything…you just get her to safety."

"I fear after seeing _this,"_ Erik motioned towards his face, and then to the men lying on the ground. "…there will be no place she will feel safe. Least of all with me," he stated, his voice betraying his broken spirit. He took a step towards her, but then stopped, fearing Christine's reaction. "Amir…would you…" Erik gestured to the shaking girl, hoping his friend understood, for his heart would not allow him to speak the words.

Thankfully, Amir simply nodded, and hurried over, scooping the near catatonic girl into his arms, speaking softly as he raced around and placed her in the passenger seat, careful not to jostle or frighten her.

"Everything's going to be all right, Christine," he told her quietly, gently smoothing down her tussled hair with his palm before buckling her safely in her seat. "You're safe now, sweetheart." Then shutting the door, he stepped back, nodding to Erik to get going, already pulling out his cell phone and dialing the police.

Erik climbed into the driver's seat and slammed Antoinette's car into gear, exiting the alleyway, and leaving all his crushed dreams behind.

.

.

Erik could feel the tears stinging his eyes as he drove through the night, avoiding every red light and bypassing all stop signs in an attempt to get home faster. The drive felt like it took forever, and each time he glanced over at his little wife, huddled there in the seat with her knees pulled up to her chest and her face buried in her arms, he felt a stab of pain directly in his heart. The night had begun so well…the party, her singing, her words to Carlotta, and then the dance. It had been one of the most wonderful evenings of his whole miserable life…and now it was all ruined. Destroyed by those vile goons and his hideous face! Why had he ever dared to believe that any woman, let alone his darling little angel, could look upon him and not react badly? He had to admit, he was grateful that Christine was not screaming, or attempting to jump from the moving car…yet in some ways _this_ was worse.

Consumed by his anger over the whole affair, he slammed his palm against the steering wheel, causing Christine to flinch at the sound, yet she did not lift her head.

"Why Christine… _why_ didn't you just leave when I told you to?" he demanded harshly, pain etched in his voice. For if she had…she would never have seen his face. He knew she was frightened, terrified of him now, and Erik was not quite sure how to deal with that, only causing his rage to intensify.

On through the darkness he sped, his radical driving causing the car to lurch this way and that as they turned corners or drove over speed bumps without slowing. At last they reached their driveway, yet because they were in Antoinette's car, Erik was forced to stop long enough to punch in the numbers on the keypad to open the gate. Once they were through and up the driveway, Erik slammed on the brakes in front of the main entrance, exiting the car with a slam of his door. When he rounded to the passenger side and yanked hers open, he stood there, his breaths coming out in labored gasps due to his fury.

He had not taken the time to relocate his mask after the fight, more intent on getting Christine to safety, thus he knew it was highly unlikely that she would wish to look at him directly. Yet when she refused to even move, Erik took it as a sign of her abhorrence for him in general…not even wanting to go inside the house with such a hideous monster.

"I realize you would prefer to remain here and simply forget this nightmare ever happened, Christine," he told her, his tone cold as ice. "But I will not have you sleeping in the car…or running away into the night. You _will_ come inside."

Reaching inside the car, he lifted her into his arms, doing his best to be gentle, yet prepared for a struggle should she choose to give him one. Yet Christine didn't even wiggle a finger, her body going limp in his arms, her head falling against his chest as she allowed him to carry her to the front door, then through the foyer and up the stairs. Neither she nor Erik spoke a word, yet with each step he could feel his anger rise, and his happiness slipping further and further away. When they reached their bedroom at last, Erik kicked the doors open with his foot, the sound of them hitting the wall on either side jerking Christine from her placid daze. Almost as if she had no idea where she was, or how she had come to be there, she began to look around frantically. Fearing she might now begin to fight him, Erik set her down on her feet, stepping back as he turned and shut the doors behind, the lock falling into place with a deafening click.

Here he stopped, leaning his forehead against the wood and taking several ragged breaths, trying in vain to silence the madness that had nearly overtaken his mind. Yet three things were crystal clear; _Christine had seen his face…she now feared him…and he had lost her forever._ Erik was not sure what to do, how to proceed, or if he should even try. Yet the thought of her leaving, of not being in his life, was unthinkable. He had all but blackmailed her into staying with him the first time, would he now be forced to use threats…or imprisonment? He _couldn't_ lose her!

Turning around slowly, he did his best to remain in the shadows, hoping that she couldn't see his face…figuring that the memory was terrifying enough. Christine was now standing beside the bed, her hands gripping one of the posts at the end, as if it were the only thing keeping her standing. She was staring at him with what appeared to him as confusion and fear, and neither one of those expressions calmed his heart.

Erik was at a loss for words, having imagined this moment quite differently in his mind earlier that evening. If things had gone as planned, they would be divesting each other of their clothing right now, not staring at each other as if they were strangers…or worse, _enemies._

"I…I'm sorry, Erik…I…I'm so sorry," she whispered, turning as she leaned her forehead against the bedpost, her eyes shut tightly. Oh, how the guilt ate at her. If only she had listened, if only she had run when he told her to. Then Erik might have slipped away sooner without being beaten, or forced to perform all the violent acts she had witnessed tonight. If she had left…like he told her…she wouldn't have seen his face, and things could go back to the wonderfully splendid way they had been. But now she'd ruined everything, the contract was null and void, and Erik would send her away because of what she had seen. "I didn't mean to…"

Erik had no idea what Christine was attempting to apologize for…unless she was just so terribly sorry that she ever agreed to marry him in the first place. In the back of his mind Erik knew the best thing for him to do was leave the room immediately, go elsewhere to calm down before he spoke…and yet, Erik had never been accused of being logical when he was this worked up. And so, against his own better judgment, he spoke.

"Go ahead, Christine…just say it!" he commanded, his tone short and accusatory.

"S-s-say what?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. If only he would tell her how to fix things, she would say anything he wished.

"Say you want out of this marriage! Say that you now feel threatened by the monster you have wed, and that you invoke the safety clause you had me write into the contract." He gave a snort of derision before continuing. "You were a shrewd one to insist on that, I must say. And now that you've seen what I am capable of, what these hands can do, you _do_ fear for your life, don't you? I would have killed that man, Christine, I would have killed them all with a smile on my face for daring to harm you! Does that knowledge shock you…terrify you? SAY IT, CHRISTINE…just claim I'm a threat and leave!"

"Leave?" Christine gasped, shrinking in on herself just a bit. "You…you _want_ me to leave?"

 _"Want you to?"_ Erik shouted, unable to think rationally any longer. "What I _want_ has never seemed to matter in my entire life, so why on earth should I start expecting my desires to be fulfilled now? But you saw my face, Christine…surely you know what that means!"

"That…that I broke the contract?" she questioned, her lip beginning to quiver slightly.

"NO! That you will leave me! The same as everyone else who has had the misfortune to look upon _this_!" here Erik stepped into the light, the moonlight casing eerie shadows across his face, making it appear even more grotesque than it was. "So look, Christine! Feast your eyes upon that which you were never meant to see, get your fill, for after tonight you will never be forced to endure such a sight, or my loathsome company, again!" When she only stared at him with wide eyes, full of tears, Erik felt something break inside him. Crossing the room in a few steps, he grabbed her by the forearms, pulling her against him, his mangled face now only inches from her ashen white one. "SAY SOMETHING!" he demanded. "Scream! Cry! Call me a monster! But do something, damn it! ANYTHING!"

Ever since the attack and all the way home, Christine had struggled to make sense of her feelings. She had been terrified when Erik had taken on those men in the alley, and even more so when they had ganged up on him, knocking him to the ground. She felt it was all her fault…for not doing as he asked, and Erik had suffered because of her folly. Then, when that one had ripped his mask off, showing her exactly what it was Erik had sworn she would never see…Christine knew. _At last she understood everything!_

Suddenly it all made sense…why Erik acted the way he did, why he had turned his back on the world, and why he had never dreamed that he might find a woman to love him. His face was terrible, no doubt about it, and she could see why he chose to hide it from the world. Yet in time, a person could get used to anything, and Erik's features, though perhaps more difficult than some, was no exception. Besides, that didn't change who he was inside, or the fact that in the short amount of time they had known each other, Christine had come to have deep and genuine feelings for him. And not just compassion, or gratitude, or admiration…she had come to love Erik as well!

Yes! _Christine loved Erik!_ Little by little he had wormed his way into her heart, with his kind deeds, selfless acts, and endearing words. Granted, at this very moment he was acting erratic and unstable, but she knew it was simply due to his fear…fear that she would call him repulsive and leave him, just like everyone else had in the past – everyone but Amir. Yet how could _she_ do that to him, especially after what he had just endured in order to protect her? How could she walk away from the man she knew she loved so deeply? Christine now understood there was no possible way she ever could! If Erik wanted her to do something… _anything_ … well, only one thing came to mind.

Reaching up, Christine wound her hands around the back of Erik's head and pulled him to her, silencing all his harsh and angry words with a simple kiss…one that had the power to change everything.

Erik was frozen in place, his eyes wide with shock as his darling Christine kissed him… _with his mask off!_ He had no warning, no inkling that she was about to do such a thing, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out her reasoning. He had just frightened her with his terrible temper, his violent way and his monstrous face…and yet, here she was…kissing him! Why?

Yet as she continued, Erik found he didn't care why, only that she was touching him, showing him affection, and not running away like everyone else he had ever known. How could she do such a thing now that she knew what he had been hiding beneath his mask…was she not sickened by his appearance? Erik couldn't understand, couldn't fathom her line of thought…but in the end, he didn't care why…just that she was.

Suddenly the joy, the jubilation, and the pure ecstasy of it all was too much for him to bare, and without any warning he began to weep. The tears quickly morphed into sobs, and soon he was forced to pull away, unable to continue kissing her in his current condition. Next his legs gave way, sending him to his knees as he knelt before her, his hands resting on her hips as he buried his face in the ruffles at her waistline. He had been completely undone, stripped naked and laid bare at her feet, with no way to gain control of his emotions. This was everything he had ever hoped, dreamed about, and prayed for in the darkest hours of the night. And with one simple kiss Christine, his perfect bride, had given it all to him.

Oh, how he loved her.

"Shhhhh," Christine whispered, taking hold of him by the shoulders and pushing him back just a bit so she could come down on his level, kneeling in front of him. Laying her hands on the back of his head, she drew Erik down to rest his poor damaged cheek against her chest, she stroked his hair, all the while making soothing noises in an effort to calm him down.

It took quite a while before his body stopped shaking, and he was able to breathe normally once again, yet he was still reluctant to raise his head and meet her eyes. He had broken down in front of her, making him feel small and weak. However, his fear and embarrassment was nothing compared to his need to know how she could have just kissed him like she had. Did this mean she wasn't leaving him, like he had originally assumed? Very slowly, Erik pulled back, raising his face until he was looking directly at her once more, searching her eyes for any signs of deceit…or pity. Yet her smile was steady, her hands did not shake…and best of all, she remained. His Christine was still there, holding him, touching him, and Erik felt like breaking down all over again. Christine eased back until she was sitting on her heels, lifting her hands towards his face very slowly, as if attempting to not spook a frightened animal. When her fingertips barely touched Erik's right cheek he jerked away, turning from her in fear.

"Erik, please," Christine whispered, daring to tip his chin back towards her, once more exposing his mangled face to her eyes. "You're safe with me, I will never hurt you." This time, when she touched his taught skin and jutting bone, he merely flinched, holding still as she allowed her hand to lightly graze over his deformity. It was still Erik. It was different, but it was still him, and suddenly her face morphed into a smile…one born of pure love. "Erik…I don't care what you look like. I don't care about your past. What I do care about is _you_ , all of you!" She then took a deep breath before continuing. "You said you wanted me to say something…anything. Well, the only thing I want to say is…I _love_ you. I love you, Erik Thorn, with all my heart."

Erik had been stunned into silence when she had reached up to touch his face, for no one had ever willingly done such a thing in his life. Sure he had doctors prod and poke him, or cruel people hit and punch him, but never had someone laid a gentle touch upon his bare mangled skin. Yet here was Christine, doing so…and with a smile on her face. But then she spoke, and her words were such a shock that Erik imagined he must be dreaming. Had she just said she loved him? It couldn't be!

"You…you _love_ me?" he questioned, desperate to hear her say the words once more.

"Yes…I love you," she confirmed, her smile growing even wider. "I love you more than I ever thought possible. I've suspected it for a while now, but something was always holding me back…not allowing me to give in to the feelings that were slowly overwhelming me. But now I know it was _this_ ," she told him, reaching up to touch his face once more. " _This_ was what was keeping me from fully accepting you into my heart, for you were hiding a piece of yourself from me. Yet now that I have seen all of you, that barrier is gone. For this is you, Erik… what I needed to know in order to fully love you. And now…I do indeed love you, every last bit." And once more she brought her lips to his, this time their kiss building in passion as Erik gave into it as well, heart and soul. Their hands began to roam over each other's bodies, entwining in hair, touching bare skin, tugging at clothing that blocked their access to more. Erik's lips left hers and trailed down her neck, finding the little hollow spot at the base, lavishing it with nips and kisses.

"You have no idea how long I have waited to hear those words, Christine. And for them to come from _your_ lips, it only makes them a million times sweeter," he confessed, unable to get enough of her bare skin. "I've loved you from the moment I first saw you…no, even before that," he mused. "For you were everything I always dreamed of, and I spent the past thirty-eight long, lonely years looking for you. And when our eyes met that night at the restaurant, I could feel my heart beating for the first time…and I just knew it had to be you. You consumed my every thought, convincing me that I could no longer go on living without you. And when I thought I had lost you tonight…I went mad, mad with grief and fear. Yet here you are, in my arms, and saying the most beautiful words I have ever heard. I love you, Christine…more than anything, even life itself."

"Oh, Erik," Christine moaned, her voice now deep and husky with desire. "I don't want to wait any longer…make love to me… _now."_

"Now?" Erik asked, wishing to clarify once more. "You want me to… _now?"_

"Right here, right now. Take me, Erik…for I am yours, always and forever," came her final words of consent.

Needing no more urging than that, Erik pushed himself onto his feet, taking her hands as he brought her up as well. However, she didn't remain standing for long, as he scooped her up in his strong arms and slowly made his way over to the bed. He didn't bother to turn the covers back, only setting her down with the utmost care, afraid to break eye contact with her for fear she might change her mind.

With a slow and languid pace, drawn up from some unknown reserves Erik didn't know he had, he removed the black Spanish shirt he had been wearing all evening, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. Next went his boots and socks, but he halted there, unsure how much of his body to expose to her virginal eyes…for he didn't wish to overwhelm her.

Christine, had been finding the little show very enticing, the shadows and moonlight only adding to the erotic effect. But when he removed his shirt, a frown formed on her face. Even in the low light she could see several bruises forming on his chest and sides, vicious marks left behind by the seven thugs in the alleyway, all acquired in an effort to save her life. Sitting up, she reached out and gently touched the biggest of the bunch, pulling back as he hissed in pain.

"Oh, my darling…you're hurt," she said, wishing she could do something to help. "I'm so sorry about this…again, it's all my fault. I should have run like you told me to and then I wouldn't have been a distraction to you. Please, let me get something to help you." She moved to rise, hoping Erik had something in the medicine cabinet that could soothe bruised skin.

"No, my love," Erik insisted, reaching out as he gently coaxed her back down. "All I need is you…these bruises will heal, yet I fear if we stop now, I may not survive."

Erik's tone was so desperate, so full of desire that Christine was unable to argue any further, and taking his hands in hers, she guided them to the back of her dress, happy when he seemed to understand her motives, and felt him ease her zipper down. Next Christine wiggled around until Erik was able to assist her in coaxing her dress up and over her head, her arms slipping free as she now kneeled there in only her bra, underwear, and those sexy as hell fishnet stockings. When she heard his sharp intake of breath, she blushed slightly, knowing he found her undergarments a bit on the risqué side.

"I…I picked these out when I got dressed tonight…hoping that you would be the one to remove them later," she confessed. "I'm glad the incident in the alleyway has not altered my plans."

"Oh…Christine," Erik moaned, now fighting to stop himself from throwing her down and ripping them off with his teeth. "You have no idea what you are doing to me."

"Then show me," she urged, twisting her feet out from under her as she laid back against the bed and extended her leg, all the while keeping contact with his ever darkening eyes.

Once more Erik gave a low moan, his hands slowly reaching out to unfasten the little clasps that held her stockings in place. When they were all unhooked, he began to slide them down her legs at an agonizing speed, relishing every second as he watched more and more of her flesh being exposed to his hungry eyes. After the second one was lying on the floor with the rest of their clothes, his fingers went to his belt, sliding it out of the loops with one quick pull. Then, as Christine watched, he undid the button and then the zipper, hooking his thumbs into his waistband and pushing them down, letting them pool at his feet before stepping out of them.

When she got a look at his underwear, Christine had to force herself not to laugh, for she did not wish him to believe she found his body in any way humorous. Oh, no…not by a long-shot. It was just that in true Erik fashion…even his undergarments were jet black!

"Are you sure about this, my love?" he questioned, silently pleading that she not ask him to stop…but knowing he would if that be her wish. "It has been a very terrifying evening for you, I would understand if…"

"No, Erik…I need you to erase all that from my mind. I want this. Just…" Here she hesitated, her cheeks turning pink as she lowered her eyes. "Just…please, go slow…and be gentle?"

Erik could hear the touch of fear in her voice, though he knew it had nothing to do with him…only the act they were about to perform. She had once told him of her anxiety over making love for the first time, and Erik would do everything in his power to make this as wonderful and enjoyable as he could for his Christine. She deserved nothing less, and he would take his time, tempt and tease, until she was writhing with pleasure beneath him, begging for him to make them one.

"I could never be anything but gentle with you, my precious angel," Erik assured her, moving so that he crawled onto the bed, supporting himself on his knees and palms, as his body came to rest above hers. "And we can take this as slow as you wish. I will happily spend all night showing you the pleasures we can share, if you but ask it of me."

"Show me that you love me, Erik…that's all I ask of you," she whispered, that strange need building within her as she spoke.

"As you wish, my darling angel," he promised. "And then I will continue to do so, every day, and every night, for the rest of our lives." With that, Erik's lips came down upon hers once more…eager to prove his every word true.

* * *

 ***takes a deep breath and wipes a cloth over her sweaty brow* Well that was action packed! But look...they got through it and still found love in the end!**

 **What did you think of the unmasking?**

 **How many of you thought I was going to let the fight in the alleyway ruin the evening? That would have been terribly mean of me, right?**

 **Amir to the rescue! Granted, there was only one thug left to go...but he DID have a gun.**

 **And now we know what's been holding Christine back from saying those three little words...but it's no longer a barrier any more. Hope you enjoyed them giving in at last.  
**

 **Congratulations to all who guess that tonight would be the night. Heart's Broken, Wintermouse, 1Pulgal, Phantomfan01, Cotesgoat, everyonedeserveslove, Child of Dreams, softpretzell13, Winni, Not a Ghost3, and La Femme Cavalier all win a snippet card for knowing THIS would be the night.**

 **If anyone wants to know how many are still holding snippet cards...and how many, the list will be posted after the guest reviews.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Cayla:** **(for 46)** Glad you approved of the costume. Yes, Raoul and Meg did look smashing, and took second place too. Raoul does have that boyish charm, does he not? No one can resist Amir for too long. No one is a fan of the De'Rossi family...except the De'Rossis ha ha. I do hope you noticed my bonus chapter and read it this weekend! Thanks

 **Hello It's me:** Oh yes, Carlotta sooooo deserved it. Glad you enjoyed the tango. I had fun dreaming up Raffie's menu. Sure wish I could have afforded the price of admittance. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Grandma Paula:** Glad to see you reviewing again. And I'm happy you enjoy my new story. We blame her uncle Joseph for spoiling Carlotta rotten. You just go ahead and read them as many times as you want! Thanks very much.

 **Kristin:** Me too, it is good to see Carlotta get her just desserts. Amir and Antoinette ARE looking like a nice couple, right? Raoul behaved himself...mostly. He did help get Amir in trouble though. More to come! Thanks

 **Lenora:** Oh good, I did worry about describing a dance. I looked up "words to describe the tango" and used quite a bit of them. ha ha. I also watched a lot of tango dances on YouTube to get the feel of it. Thankfully, Carlotta probably won't come anywhere near Christine ever again, if she's smart. And no, oddly enough, I had no idea that was a Phantom thing from the 1989 horror film...I never saw THAT one. It was a complete coincidence what I said about Carlotta's head and the cooking pot. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Guest:** Yah...sorry I ended it there, but I hope THIS chapter made up for it. Yep, you only had to wait ONE day this time, not two. You did? See I knew I missed a few guesses! Then congratulations to you for coming up with the right answer. I wish I could reward you with a snippet card...but there's no way to give them to guest reviewers. Sorry. But thanks for playing! FP33

 **Guest: (for 46)** I hope your guess it right too. I think Raoul and Meg are still testing the waters, but they genuinely like each other for now. Trust me, Raoul will have a ton of people on his case if he hurts Meg. Thanks.

 **GuestWraithSnake:** Amir and Antoinette are all made up now. I think Erik was born to hate Raoul and his family. ha ha. I did enjoy the odious part of that quote...that part made me laugh. When a reader asks questions it means they are paying attention, so yes, I love that. I think Ken and Barbie would be hard to cosplay at...at least Barbie...you would have to really have the body for it! Oh, Dancing With The Stars. RIGHT, I just couldn't place the abbreviation. ha ha. Gotcha. Maybe for the next charity Ball Erik can go as Red Death. And that "shy little flower" thing Erik said, was more because she was currently dressed as his "Spanish Rose", but thanks for remembering that MBTM Erik called her his Daisy. ha ha. Thanks.

 **PG4044:** **(for 46)** Thank you for your vote of confidence, I do hope you like how I wrote the Tango. Oh, yes, they MIGHT have more to look forward to than the food, right? ha ha. Oh...wait, you just read that they did! Amir does like his costume, he feels like he's wearing PJs. And Raoul is still alive...it's a red letter night! Thanks.

 **GuestRP:** Glad it made you laugh. It was just a little love tap under the table. ha ha. Yes, Erik should have at least warned Christine of what he did. ha ha. Yes, it WAS for charity. Erik was cordial to Raoul...not nice. Christine did indeed defend her man, and Erik really loved it too. Right, Erik wouldn't have touched her with a ten foot pole. Erik does love capes, right? And he looks so good in them too. He did LOVE that dance! Ha ha, was dance the tango with Christine on that list? If not, I'm sure he will just write it on later so he CAN cross it off. And thanks for noticing that Antoinette knew Amir didn't like mustard, things like that are important. Well...Meg thought their costumes looked good together, I'm not sure she even knows who Amir is. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Guest:** Not toooo sure how much this story will follow the play/movie/book from here on out. I have new and exciting ideas for our couple. I do hope you like where I take it. As for the unmasking...how did you like it? Christine is fiercely loyal to Erik, after all, he hasn't given her a reason not to be...yet. ha ha. And you just post as long of a review as you wish! I'm not complaining a bit. Thanks!

 **LazyToUseMyAcc:** Glad you enjoyed the bonus chapter and it landed at the perfect time for you to read. I too like putting obsticals in front of them, so that they can overcome them and grow stronger, but not TOO many, I want them to be happy for nice long streches too. Oh, I always give happy endings. "Always watching"...I am so picturing that slug lady from Monsters Inc. ha ha. Nope, didn't sound creepy at all *eyes dart left and right, searching for danger* Love it. Thanks.

 **Guest:** Oh, boy...don't anyone DARE call a meeting tonight! I think Erik will turn off his phone and bolt the door! Oh, I think Amir will have to find his own way home now...right? Left in an alleyway, so sad. Thanks!

* * *

 **Snippet Card Holders**

1Pulgal 1,

Animekitty47 2,

Ann Faith 1,

ArtemisBare 3,

Ashleycnichole 1,

Bonpetitepoodles 2,

CatarinaK 1,

Child of Dreams 2,

Christineof the Opera 2,

ClaryF 2,

Cotesgoat 3,

Down1more 1,

EMK81 2,

Emma Round 1,

emmaaaaw 1,

Everyone deserves love 1,

Geekygirl5 1,

Ginnevra Phantom 2,

Hearts Broken 2,

La-femne-cavalier 5,

LaPianiste 1,

Mallywally 1,

Melstrife 2,

MyraValhallah 1,

Nanjica04 1,

Not A Ghost3 3,

Otterviolinfilm 1,

Phan3145 1,

Phantomfan01 2,

Princess Pretty Pants 1,

Queen of the beasts 2,

Rose-with-black-silk-Ribbons 2,

Soft Pretzel13 1,

Tatiana Petron 1,

UnseenAngel17 2,

Wintermouse 2,

Wynni 6


	49. Chapter 49

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 **Thank you ALL for enjoying the last chapter so much. It was a turning point in the story, and I'm very happy you found it satisfying.**

 **.**

 **Now...what happened to poor Amir after Erik and Christine left?**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Guest S:** Hey, I understand when real life gets in the way of things. I'm just glad you are still out there reading...even if it takes you a while to get back to the story every now and then. It's all done, I don't mind. Take your time. Thanks.

 **.**

 **Chapter 49**

 **~X~**

* * *

After Erik had driven away with Christine, Amir informed the police that a street fight had taken place in the alley, and requested several ambulances to the scene. He then spent the next few minutes checking on all the injured, cutting the Punjab lasso from around the one man's neck and tossing it in a dumpster, in hopes of disposing of the evidence. Amir could tell that Erik had blessedly held back, for though the men were beaten, broken, and bruised, they were still in far better shape than many others he had seen Erik take down. His masked friend had apparently pulled a few punches for Christine's sake, not wishing to do more in front of her.

None of the men appeared to be in danger of dying, though they'd be nursing some broken bones and a lot of aches and pains for a good long while. He rolled the one with the bleeding face over on his side, so that he wouldn't choke on his own blood, but left everyone else where they lay, not wishing to cause any further damage by moving them. Still, Amir knew he would have a devil of a time talking his way out of this.

Taking out his phone once more, he dialed Antoinette, the line picking up almost immediately.

"Amir…is everything all right?" came her worried voice. "Did you find them?"

"Yes…I found them," he said with a tired sigh. "Unfortunately, a group of street thugs found them first." When she gave a gasp of fright, he quickly continued. "They're both fine though…well, Christine is rather shaken up, and Erik looks to have been in quite a battle, but they're basically alright. I gave Erik your car and he took Christine home."

"What about you?" came her next question.

"I'm staying here to clean up this mess," he told her. "So, you might want to find another ride home. Maybe with Meg…or you could call Gerald. He should have the limo unblocked by now."

"But how are _you_ going to get home?" Antoinette questioned, obviously more worried about him than herself.

Just then the sound of multiple sirens could be heard converging on his location, and Amir suddenly felt very old and tired.

"Don't worry about me," he told her, doing his best to inject some levity in his voice. "I can hear my ride approaching now. I'll talk to you later, Antoinette. Oh, and thanks for a wonderful evening, I really enjoyed it…well, up until now that is." And with one final word of goodnight, he hung up the phone, just as the first police car entered the alleyway.

Amir, anticipating the reception he'd be getting, stood in the glow of the headlights, with his hands raised in surrender, not wanting anyone to believe he was a threat. Soon three separate patrol cars had efficiently boxed in the alleyway and six officers jumped out, weapons drawn, as they scanned the scene.

"Turn around and put your hands on your head!" one of them shouted, aiming his gun at Amir, a bit surprised to see a ninja standing before them.

Amir complied, doing as he was told and patiently waited until one of the policemen had him securely handcuffed. Turning him back around they began to grill him for information.

"What the hell happened here?" the man whose name tag identified him as Officer Brady, asked. "Who did all this?" He gestured to the seven thugs lying on the ground, all either passed out or groaning in pain.

"I suppose I'm to blame," Amir admitted, not wishing to bring Erik or Christine into all this.

"You? _You_ did all this?" Brady demanded, sounding rather skeptical. "One man couldn't have taken on this many and come out alive."

"Oh…I assure you, it _is_ possible," he told him. He then got a little smirk on his face. "Besides, I'm a ninja…or can't you tell?"

"Some lunatic wandering the streets in a pair of black pajamas is more like it," another officer scoffed, reaching down and aiding the most coherent thug to sit up. It was the one with the shattered knee, still hissing in pain, but not knocked out like the rest. "Tell us what happened, buddy."

"We…we were attacked!" he claimed. "Some madman all in black… he…he tried to kill us all!"

"This madman here?" Brady asked, jerking his thumb towards Amir.

"No, he came afterwards, in a car…the first guy was a monster…a horrible freakish monster!" he insisted. "He had a girl with him too!"

"A girl? Do _you_ see a girl, officer? Or a car?" Amir scoffed. He then turned and glared at the man on the ground. "And while I'll be the first to admit I'm no Chris Hemsworth, I would hardly call myself a freakish monster!" Amir then readdressed the policeman. "This guy's obviously confused, or lying to protect himself and his buddies."

"I'll be the one to decide who's lying here," Brady snapped. He then called out to the other officers who were checking out the assailants and the rest of the alley. "Gibson, report!"

"Seven downed suspects in total, Lieutenant," the officer named Gibson called back. "All still alive…but in need of medical attention."

"The ambulance should be here soon," Brady responded.

"We also found a gun and several other weapons," another reported, holding up the firearm he had discovered next to one of the men, wisely doing so with gloved hands.

"So…care to tell us what your version of the story is, Michelangelo?" Brady asked, snorting at his ninja turtle joke.

"I was attending a costume party at the Mason Hotel," Amir began, ignoring the officer's dig. "When I left, I came walking down this alley, and was promptly attacked by these seven men. I fought back. End of story."

"So…let me get this straight," Brady said in a skeptical voice. "You were walking home from a costume party, all alone, and just decided to take a stroll down a dark alleyway? Then you were attacked by these seven men, each of whom were heavily armed, and you took them out, all by yourself,? Oh, and there was no girl with you…and you had no vehicle. Did I miss anything?"

"Ummm…no, that just about sums it up," Amir said with an exasperated sigh. He was so going to demand a raise from Erik after this!

"Right," Brady said with a roll of his eyes. "You're going down to the station, maybe you'll be more willing to cooperate there."

"Unlikely. But I know you have to do your job," Amir shrugged, allowing himself to be led away. They had just put him in the back of a patrol car when the first ambulance pulled up, a team of paramedics jumping out to assess the wounded.

"Watch your step," Officer Gibson warned the medical team. "This alleyway's littered with debris and potential evidence. We can't have you destroying anything, or falling down an open manhole."

"We'll be careful," a pretty auburn haired paramedic assured him, giving the officer a scalding glare. "We _have_ done this kind of thing a time or two, you know."

 _Oh, but I'll bet never quite like this, sweetheart,_ Amir chuckled to himself, having overheard the conversation through the half open window. He then leaned his head back against the seat and waited patiently for them to take him away.

.

.

It took about an hour to get Amir fingerprinted, processed, and stuck in a holding cell, waiting for his chance to make his one phone call. He contemplated who to call, deciding that Erik would not be the best idea at the moment. With the way things looked between him and Christine when they left, the Persian could only imagine that his currently un-masked friend had his hands full. He really hoped things were going well…for he couldn't imagine the devastation he would have to deal with if Christine chose to leave now. He would almost rather remain in jail than go home and face a suicidal Erik.

Gerald was his next thought, but it wasn't as if the chauffeur had a lot of money to spare in order to bail him out…if he was even allowed bail. Antoinette was a consideration, but he really didn't want to drag her into all this. Besides, seeing him behind bars would hardly be an enticement to consider him as a potential boyfriend in the future…especially after what she had gone through with her previous husband.

That left only one person he could think of who might be of any help to him in this situation, but he was extremely reluctant to call _him_. Still, beggars couldn't be choosers.

Thus, when the time came, he dialed the number he had memorized, not wishing to carry any evidence of their association on his person. When one of the officers remained standing rather close, Amir politely asked for some privacy, waiting until he had moved to an acceptable distance before speaking. Of course the man he was trying to reach was not in, but Amir left a detailed message, explaining his predicament, and how it was in his best interest to see he was quickly bailed out. After hanging up, Amir was escorted back to his cell, where he was told to wait until they wished to interrogate him further. Taking a seat on the bench in the back, the Persian leaned his head against the wall and shut his eyes. It was going to be a long night.

.

.

He must have dozed off, for the next thing he heard was the angry and determined voice of Antoinette Giry, bullying her way down the hall towards his cell.

"I am his lawyer and I demand to see my client!" she argued, the sound of her Japanese zori sandals slapping against the floor as she came closer. "Now, where is he?"

Amir leapt to his feet, moving to stand at the bars as he struggled to see down the hallway, a smile coming to his lips as he watched her approach like an avenging angel in a kimono.

"Antoinette!" he called, the moment she came into view. She gave him a quick smile, but the fire in her eyes told everyone she was not one to be messed with. "What are you doing here?" Then he saw she wasn't alone, for along with the officer escorting her, she had Meg and Raoul trailing right behind, the two still dressed as the iconic toys. "Better yet, what is _he_ doing here?" the now disgruntled Persian demanded.

"He drove me here and insisted on coming in…and well, I wasn't about to leave Meg alone in the car, now was I?" she replied, apparently not in any mood for Amir's petty attitude towards her daughter's new boyfriend. "Now…tell me what happened!"

"Not until _he_ is out of the room," Amir huffed, pointing at Raoul irritatingly. "Can't Ken and Barbie go play in their dream house or something?"

"So this is the thanks I get for offering to help," Raoul grumbled, reaching out and taking Meg by the hand. "Come on, we can go get a cup of coffee while I take a look at the arrest report." And with a narrow-eyed glare at Amir, he and Meg headed back the way they had come.

"Could we please be alone," Antoinette requested of the officer. "I need to speak to my client in private."

"Alright, but remain at least a foot away from the bars and no slipping him anything…you'll be watched the whole time," he said, pointing both fingers to his eyes and then at them in a warning gesture. "We've got a closed circuit camera mounted on the wall over there. The sound is turned off, but someone will have eyes on you at all times. Understand?"

"Thank you, officer," she said appreciatively, watching as he turned and left. Once they were alone, she looked back at Amir. "Now, tell me everything."

"Well, let's just say that the thugs of New York will think twice before they mess with the likes of Erik Thorn again. He laid out seven of them…well, six really, while I swooped in and handled the last one who was about to pump Erik full of lead with his Glock Forty." Amir appeared rather proud of himself about that.

"Taking on a man with a deadly weapon is nothing to brag about, Amir…you could have been killed!" she huffed.

"Does that mean you care?" he asked, a playful smile on his face, though his heart was racing just a bit at the prospect.

"Of course I'd care if you were killed, you idiot!" Antoinette barked. "Now, what about Mr. Thorn and Christine…where are they now?"

"Hopefully at home. I told them to get out of there and I stayed around to see that everything was dealt with properly…taking full credit for the mess Erik made… _again!_ " he finished.

"So they believe you were the one who beat up those men?" she surmised.

"That's what I told them, but I'm not sure they _believe_ it," Amir told her. "One of the thugs described Erik rather well, and mentioned that there was a girl with him. Granted, Erik and I were dressed very similar, but that Officer Brady fellow's no fool."

"Then, I'll just have to work my lawyer magic and get you off on some technicality," she hummed, already thinking of what she could do to spring him.

"You could claim this is a case of racial discrimination," he suggested, giving her a little smile.

"Because you're from Iran?" Antoinette questioned, not sure how a fight in an alleyway could be misconstrued as that.

"No…because I'm a ninja," he laughed, gesturing to his outfit. "We secret assassins always get a bum rap."

This had Antoinette laughing too, but she quickly sobered, realizing it was truly no joking matter.

"Have you called Mr. Thorn?" she inquired.

"No…I didn't want to bother him right now with all this," Amir admitted.

"What? Why not?" she demanded. "Don't you think he would like to know you're in jail? What else could possibly be more important?"

"Christine," he answered solemnly. "She was really shaken up, after seeing everything Erik did…and…well, his mask came off in the fight. She got a front row view of his face."

Antoinette's hand came up to cover her mouth in shock. She, of course, had no idea what lay behind Mr. Thorn's mask, but she had always known that it was something her boss did not wish for _anyone_ to see. Ever! Oh, the poor girl.

"I…I understand," she nodded, realizing that Amir was right. Calling Mr. Thorn now was not a viable option. "Give me a little time then, and I'll see what I can do. But don't worry, you won't be here long…I guarantee it."

"Actually…it looks like he's already been sprung," came the voice of an officer coming down the hall and heading for his cell. "Not sure where the orders came from, but I've been told to release you. All the charges have been dropped…so you're free to go, Mr. Dessan." And opening the door he gestured for Amir to exit.

"That's it?" Antoinette questioned, apparently shocked by what she was hearing. "But I don't understand."

"Don't go looking a gift horse in the mouth, Antoinette," Amir hissed, taking her by the arm and pulling her down the hallway with him. "Let's just get the hell out of here."

Unable to argue with his logic, Antoinette complied, the two of them hurrying down the hallway before the officer changed his mind. They had just rounded the corner and were heading for the lobby, when they ran into Meg and Raoul, standing beside one of the desks out front. Each had a cup of hot coffee in their hands while the blond man read over a report. When they saw Amir and Antoinette, their jaws dropped in shock.

"What are you doing out?" Raoul demanded, looking ready to jump into action and stop an escaping prisoner.

"He's been released…legally," the dark haired woman insisted.

"But how?" Raoul gasped, holding up the folder in his hand. "He's put seven men in the hospital! SEVEN! Why would they simply let him go?"

"Hey, this is your legal system…not mine," Amir countered. "Maybe I just have an innocent looking face?"

Raoul opened his mouth to respond, but Meg stepping in, silencing them both.

"How about we just get out of here and worry about the whys and wherefores later?" she suggested, setting her cup down and taking hold of her mother's arm. "It's been a long night and I for one am ready for bed."

"Here, here," Antoinette agreed. "There will be plenty of time for sorting things out tomorrow." She then looked over at Raoul. "Would you mind driving us all home, Mr. Chaney?"

"Oh no! I am not riding home with _him_!" Amir objected. "I'll sleep here before I take charity from that boy."

Thankfully, before a full blown argument could ensue, Gerald came hurrying through the main doors, spotting the group and rushing towards them.

"What's going on?" he demanded. "I heard on the police scanner that there was an attack in an alleyway near the hotel, and that seven men were rushed to the hospital. They said one man in black was arrested…I thought it might have been Mr. Thorn."

"No…it was just me," Amir assured him, giving him a stern glare as he jerked his head towards where Raoul stood, now looking rather suspicious.

"And why would you automatically assume that Erik Thorn would be the one to take out a group of street thugs?" Raoul demanded. He then leveled his eyes on Amir. " _Was_ it him? You sure don't look very messed up for beating a group of men black and blue, Mr. Dessan."

"I guess I'm just that good," he sneered, purposely holding up his bruised knuckles as if to prove his words. "And now that Gerald is here, I'll be taking my leave." He looked over at Antoinette and Meg. "You ladies are welcome to join _me_."

" _I_ will see Meg home safely," Raoul insisted. "And you are welcome to join _us_ , Mrs. Giry."

Antoinette looked torn, but in the end she glanced up at Amir with an apologetic look.

"It really would make more sense for me to accompany Meg home," she explained. "Besides, our place is in the opposite direction from here, and I'm sure you would like to get home as quickly as you can. It will be daylight soon, and you haven't had any sleep tonight."

"Neither have you," he pointed out. "You get some rest as well…promise?"

"Of course," she nodded. "We'll speak more on this later." And with a nod towards Gerald, she followed Raoul and Meg out the door.

"Sorry about that," Gerald apologized after they were gone, looking a bit sheepish for his slip of the tongue. "I didn't see Agent Chaney standing there."

"Don't worry about it," Amir said with a sigh. "That snoop's had it out for Erik since day one. Nothing you might have said could have made it any worse."

"But it _was_ him who sent those seven guys to the hospital…wasn't it?" Gerald asked, keeping his voice low this time.

"Well…I'm taking credit for at least one of them," Amir said, acting as if he felt slighted to be left out.

"Are they all right…was Christine hurt?" Gerald now looked horribly worried, and more than a little bit guilty. "I should have just put the limo in gear and plowed through those two morons who were blocking me in! Damn!"

"Everyone is fine…well, physically," Amir admitted, still concerned about Christine's mental state. It had to have been traumatizing to not only be attacked, but then watch as her husband laid out six men right before her eyes. Add to that the whole fiasco of her seeing his face, and it was a recipe for one horrific night. "It wasn't your fault, and I'm sure Erik will be the first to tell you that. Now, let's go collect my things and get out of here."

Gerald nodded, though he still looked despondent, as the two men left the police station.

.

.

When Gerald and Amir pulled up to the mansion, they noticed that Antoinette's car was in the driveway, but there were no lights on in the house.

"I'm not sure if that's a good sign or a bad one," Amir muttered. "Since the car is here, we know they got home. But have they left again…maybe in one of Erik's vehicles?" He truly hoped that Christine hadn't run off somehow, leaving Erik to wallow in self-pity and drive him to do something drastic.

"Are you going in to check on them?" Gerald asked.

"No. If I did, I would either find they worked things out and wake them up, or…well I don't even want to imagine what the alternative might be," Amir said with a heavy sigh. "Either way…it will have to keep until morning." When Gerald gave him a rather shocked look at his less than sympathetic answer, the Persian gave a tired shrug. "I care for both of them like family, I really do, but they need to work this out on their own." He then gave the chauffeur a stern look. "And if you ever tell Erik I said he's like family…I will slash all your tires, got it?"

"Not a word," Gerald chuckled. "I promise."

"All right…good night then," he said with a slight grin, opening the passenger door and getting out. He gave a wave as Gerald drove off, and then with one last hopeful look at the dark house, he headed for his own place…and his much needed bed.

* * *

 **I know this one is a bit on the short side, but the last one was SUPER long!**

 **So, how did Amir do cleaning up Erik's mess?**

 **Antoinette sure seemed concerned about him, didn't she? Is love in the air?**

 **Oh, Raoul, you do keep sticking your nose where it does not belong, don't you?**

 **It's a good thing that Amir chose NOT to go find out how Erik and Christine were doing, right? He would have got an eyeful...right before both his eyes were blackened by Erik's fists. ha ha.**

 **Friday we will see our lovebirds waking up...awwww.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Cayla:** **(chapter 47)** I had to bring Raffie and Maria back for at least a cameo. Well, if you ever know of anyone who wants to make a movie out of this, I'm willing to negotiate! ha ha. I see big things in the future for Amir and Antoinette. Carlotta got what was coming to her. POW, right in the kisser. Yep, Erik has money to burn and he will do so on Christine. You want to sic Phil on Carlotta? OK! Let's make up some charges against her! Happy that you enjoyed the dance...Erik did too. Sorry you had a crummy day, and I am pleased my story could help. **(Chapter 48)** Glad it was a favorite. Them in love is an adorable thing...and we will see it a lot more now. I shocked you with the bad guys huh? Good. Oh yes, Erik is the only one to be walking down a dark alley with. For sure! They will work through that whole blaming thing soon enough. I didn't want Christine to sleep with Erik before seeing his face...otherwise he would never truly believe it was real. Yep, Amir is always there when you need him. Oh yes, Erik was just sure he had lost everything and was so sad driving her home in Antoinette's car. Yep, that kiss worked wonders, and now they are super married and happy to be so. ha ha, just couldn't stop reading huh? Good, glad it kept you enthralled. Thanks.

 **GuestWraithSnake:** **(chapter 47)** GOOD, glad you enjoyed the tango! I do like thinking of Erik dancing that way...*sigh* **(chapter 48)** Wow, huh? *grins* I tried to find a new and exciting way to unmask Erik. It's getting harder each time. ha ha. Erik in black is hard to spot, right? Well, Christine doesn't know EVERYTHING about him, he's still keeping secrets, but at least not what he looks like. As you just read, no, Amir was not fine...but he managed to come out on top. He's resourceful. I'm so glad you find my writing tasteful and modest, I just don't do smut very well, too embarrassing. I am more of a smut-light kind of gal. Besides my mother reads my stuff, so I can't shock the poor woman! ha ha. MBTM was only M rated because of what that bad guy did to Erik...I thought it was a bit violent. I do like to leave the smexy stuff to the readers imagination...I try to just lead them in the right direction with hints and stuff. Thanks.

 **Guest:** Holy Frick? I actually know someone with that last name, ha ha. They aren't full of holes though, ha ha. Yes, go read the next chapter! Thanks.

 **Sleepypants2:** Your PM capabilities are turned off, so I couldn't respond to you personally. (did you know it was turned off?) Anyway, I'm glad I surprised you by not ruining their night completely. I just delayed it a bit and let Christine see Erik's face...but now he knows she REALLY loves him. So, win/win. Glad you found it pleasing. Thanks.

 **GuestRP:** Erik's run of bad luck just won't quit, will it? Yes, I didn't want it to be Christine who unmasked him, that would have hurt his feelings. I doubt I would have been able to run either. Oh yes, and Erik can sure protect her, that's a fact. Erik is good at rejecting others before they reject him. No way, Erik would never take off his mask just to scare Christine! I think a good freakout from Erik every now and then is a must. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Kristin:** Yes, she HAD to see his face or he would never believe she truly loved him. We all hate Roshni! The thugs in the alley did scare Christine, but she has her strong Erik to keep her safe. Hmmm, I would have opted for a shower too, but it would have seriously killed the moment I think. ha ha. Yep, I stuck in that "All I ask of You" on purpose. ha ha. Thanks!

 **PG4044: (chapter 47)** ha ha, you think the evening went well...oh, as you saw, it wasn't over yet. Glad you enjoyed the happy times at the dance though. **(Chapter 48)** Lots of ups and downs, right? Happy, lovey, scared, fighting, running, driving, arguing, kissing, loving...*wipes forehead*. I wanted you all to THINK it would ruin everything...but nope! I think if Erik had to wait one more day he would have exploded! ha ha. Thanks.

 **Guest:** No going crazy, the next chapters are coming...and look, here was one now! Thanks.


	50. Chapter 50

**Oh, my stars and garters! Look! Chapter 50 is here!**

 **Makes me wonder just how many chapters this story is going to be! ha ha.**

 **(There's a chance to win a snippet card at the end of the chapter.)**

 **Thanks for all your support.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 50**

 **~X~**

* * *

As the sun rose over the trees, Erik's eyes drifted open, causing his somewhat foggy mind to slowly recall every moment of the previous night. It had been a roller-coaster of emotions, drama, danger, and elation, culminating in the event that had led to him waking up with Christine in his arms. Yes, that part was not exactly new…but the fact that they were both naked was!

Erik shifted just a bit, leaning forward in order to inspect the slumbering goddess beside him. Her tussled hair and rosy cheeks only added to her beauty, a happy little smile gracing her precious lips. Oh, how Erik loved her!

And he _had loved_ her…quite thoroughly last night in fact! A contented sigh escaped his lips just before they too turned up into the most pleased of smiles. They were at last husband and wife in every sense of the word…she had offered herself to him, and Erik had gladly accepted. Shutting his eyes, he took a moment to recall each moment of last night's miracle…of the two of them wrapped in a blanket of passion and desire.

Christine had been a bit shy at first, but that was to be expected, it being her first time. Yet she was just as eager to please him as he was to please her. He had gone slow, exactly as she requested, doing everything within his power to make certain that the experience would be as amazingly memorable for her as he knew it would be for him. In all things, Erik was a perfectionist, theorizing that if it was worth doing…it was worth doing right. Thus, over the years, he had honed his skills as a lover, knowing exactly the right way to offer the most pleasure to his partners, while deriving an equal amount for himself. Yet, in all that time, not once had he ever felt that elusive emotion known as love. He had enjoyed his times with Monique and Hanako, appreciated what they had offered, but never going so far as to form a connection with them, keeping it all strictly business. That was how he wanted it…how _they_ wanted it, and it worked well for everyone involved. But with Christine…oh, it had been something entirely different!

With her, Erik had wanted to feel that bond, to whisper words of love throughout, and hear them whispered back in return. He spent a great deal of time memorizing every inch of his wife's body, drawing small gasps and sighs from her precious lips before at last driving them both past the point of ecstasy, all in hopes of showing her how much he loved her.

They had fallen asleep in each other's arms, after a long and pleasurable night, one Erik had never dreamed could have touched him so deeply. Yet to share such things with someone he absolutely adored on so many levels, made it the absolute highlight of his life…thus far. And in his mind, it would take something of epic proportion to top it.

During the wee hours of the morning, Christine had become restless in her sleep, obviously experiencing some kind of bad dream brought on by the street thug's attack in the alleyway. At first Erik had worried that she was seeing visions of his face, and that's what frightened her, but soon he understood by her few whispered words that this was not the case. So, humming softly, he rocked her gently until she settled back into a peaceful sleep, not once letting go of his precious little wife.

Erik would have preferred to lie there forever, but unfortunately there was some rather urgent business he needed to attend to in the washroom, driving him from his cozy nest. With the utmost care, he removed himself from his wife's side, slipping into his bathroom without waking her. After attending to his needs, Erik washed his hands in the sink, allowing him the opportunity to glance up at the mirror above, stopping for a moment as he closely examined his face…something he had not done with such scrutiny in a while. It was still horrific to look upon, still the thing of nightmares, but for the first time, Erik could gaze upon it without feeling that overwhelming sense of hate and loathing. For _this_ was the face that Christine had looked at last night and still kissed…even said she loved. And that made all the difference in the world.

Still, regardless of how she had acted last night, Erik still reached for one of his many sleep masks, taking it out of the drawer and slipping it on. No sense in pushing his luck, he thought to himself, eager to return to the warmth of his bed…and his wife.

Yet, as he went to slip under the covers, he felt Christine stir, either pulled from her sleep by his movements or some other form of stimuli. Erik quickly glared at the window venomously, wondering why had he not yet invested in blackout shades?

"Erik?" came her sleepy voice as she rolled over, searching for confirmation that he was indeed there.

"Right here, my love," he assured her, enjoying the way that endearment rolled off his tongue so smoothly. "I did not mean to wake you."

"That's all right," she smiled, at last turning enough so she could see him properly. Yet a frown instantly touched her lips when she noticed the mask. "Erik…why are you wearing that?" she asked, reaching up to gently run her fingers over the black fabric. "I thought we got past all this last night."

"I…I did not wish to assume," he explained, looking down as if embarrassed. "While I am touched that you seemed to accept my face last night…"

"And I will accept it this morning as well, and every day after!" she broke in, sitting up so that she could meet his eyes, her one hand keeping the sheet pulled up to cover her modestly. "Erik…I love you. _All_ of you. Did I not make that clear?"

"You more than convinced me of your sincere feelings, my dearest," Erik assured her, sitting up as well and touching her face as he drew her to him for a kiss. "And a more wonderful testimony I could not have asked for."

"Then take it off," she demanded. But then, as if she felt ashamed of her words, she quickly added. "I mean…if that's what _you_ want. I didn't mean to sound demanding Erik, I would never presume to tell you what you should or shouldn't do where your mask is concerned. Just know that I would like there to be no more barriers between us."

"Then it shall be as you wish," he told her, quite moved by her thoughtfulness. And with only a few seconds hesitation, Erik lifted his hands and undid the ties holding it in place.

Once it was off, he found himself unconsciously turning just a bit to shield his face from her view. But with a light touch to his chin, Christine urged him to look directly at her, his own eyes feasting upon her warm and loving smile.

"There…that's better," she told him. "You've been hiding the real you from me for so long, it might take a day or two before I recognize you without your mask."

"I hid my face for a very good reason, Christine," he reminded her. "History has taught me the need to keep it covered…or suffer the consequences. Last night in the alley being a prime example."

"Those beasts didn't attack us because of your face, Erik…they were after money, pure and simple," she reminded him.

"Until my mask _was_ removed…and then motivation became something else entirely," he said with a scowl. "Even you had to look away, Christine…do not deny it."

"I can deny it, and I will!" she huffed. "Yes, I was surprised by what I saw…yes, it _is_ rather startling, at first. But I never looked away out of fear or disgust, Erik. At that moment, I looked away out of shame for what _I_ had done."

"Shame? Why?" Erik was both shocked and confused. "For what reason would you have to feel such a thing?"

"Because I didn't listen to you," she confessed. "You told me to run, but I didn't…I couldn't. I don't know if it was because I thought I could help, was afraid to leave you, or just so scared I that my feet wouldn't move…but for whatever reason, I stayed, and it caused you pain, both physical and mental."

"Oh, my darling," Erik moaned, reaching out and drawing her to him in sympathy. "Is that what you thought? Was that what all your apologies were for last night?"

Christine had buried her face into his bruised chest, letting tears of regret fall onto his skin, only managing to nod her head, her voice stolen away by the lump in her throat.

"There is no need to blame yourself, Christine. None at all," he assured her. "If anything, you being there made me fight harder…it gave me the strength and desire to come out victorious. _For you!"_

"But…but…they _hurt_ you," she sniffled. "Look at your chest, your sides, and your hands!" Christine pulled back and gestured to the multitude of bruises, reaching out to brush her fingers lightly over his skinned and discolored knuckles. "Do you know how much it pained me to see you receive these wounds, knowing that had I not been there, some of them, if not all, might have been avoided? And then…when you looked at me with such devastation in your eyes, I thought I would die right there of guilt and shame."

"While I assumed you looked away out of fear," he whispered, wiping away the tears on her cheeks.

"I _was_ afraid! Afraid that because I saw your face I had broken the contract and you would send me away!" she explained. "I had just come to the conclusion that I loved you, and to then have you push me away would have destroyed me." Once more she leaned in and wrapped her arms around him, holding on as tight as she dared without causing him pain. "I never want to leave your side again, Erik Thorn. Please don't ever ask me to."

"I would be the world's biggest fool if I did," he chuckled, still a bit in shock over all that had taken place in such a short amount of time. "And I, Mrs. Thorn…am no fool."

"Good to know," she laughed, hiccuping just a bit as she dried her tears.

"What I am, however, is a man who is completely in love with his wife," Erik continued, eager to bring a smile back to her face. "One who can't believe his good fortune in finding you after so many years of searching. I am also amazed that after all my blunders and mistakes, you still agreed to stay with me. I swear I chose the perfect woman."

"Well, I'm hardly perfect," she argued. "What _I am_ , though, is a woman who's equally in love with her husband. And I can't believe you went to such lengths to get me to agree to marry you! I'm both overwhelmed and highly flattered."

"As you should be," he told her with a teasing smile. "After all, look what you got. An irritating, manipulative, stubborn, control freak with the face of a monster."

"Erik! Don't you say such things!" she scolded, glaring at him harshly. "What I got was a kind, caring, considerate, sometimes overly protective, stubborn, genius! And one I wouldn't trade for anything in the world."

"I do prefer your way of describing me," he mused, nodding at her assessment. "But that is simply what makes you perfect, Christine. You are the only one in the world to ever see past the flaws of my face…and my personality…and love me in spite of them."

"Maybe I love you _because_ of them, ever think of that?" she posed.

"If that were the case, then you would be _too_ perfect, and I would not deserve you," he stated. "Yet, whether I do or not…I plan on keeping you. Forever and ever."

"Sounds wonderful to me," she smiled, reaching up to cup his face in her palms and kiss his lips quite soundly.

A few minutes passed while they continued their expression of love, until they were forced to part, breathless and flushed from their desires.

"Christine…I so want to make love to you again," he moaned, his lips now slipping down her neck to nip at the tender flesh of her collarbone.

"Then why don't you?" she asked in a teasing voice, her eyes closed in pure ecstasy.

"It might be advisable to allow you some time to recuperate," he informed her, his lips only leaving her flesh long enough to speak his words. "With last night being your first time and all…we might want to take things a bit slow at first."

Christine froze in place, pushing gently against Erik's shoulders as she looked up at him anxiously.

"Was…was I…" she stammered, her cheeks turning pink from embarrassment. "I mean, did I do everything… _correctly?"_

Erik stared at her in shock for a few seconds and then burst out in joyous laughter. When he saw her face take on an almost hurt expression, he quickly sobered, leaning in as he brought his forehead to hers, taking a few deep breaths before he spoke with all seriousness.

"Last night…was beyond perfect, Christine," he informed her. "I have never, and I mean _never_ , felt the way I did when I was with you. You not only did everything correctly, you did it with both love and acceptance. No one has ever given me so much, and I will spend the rest of my life attempting to repay your generosity."

"It wasn't generosity, Erik," she whispered, touched by his words. "It was pure devotion."

"Which makes me treasure it all the more," he swore. He sealed his statement with another long, lingering kiss. At last he pulled back, knowing he would never get his fill, but also realizing that he had a wife to care for, and he would not be neglecting her needs. "Should we rise and begin the day? I am willing to bet my little carnivore would enjoy some breakfast."

"Oh…that she would," Christine nodded eagerly. But then she looked down at her sheet covered body a bit hesitantly. "Could…could I perhaps shower first?"

"Ah, yes, that would be wise," he nodded. He went to pull the blankets back, but she held onto the one covering her with a viselike grip, leading him to eye her skeptically. "Have you changed your mind so quickly?"

"No…it's just that…well, I think we made a little bit of a mess," she admitted at last, now completely mortified. However, Erik only gave her a patient smile.

"Christine," he said soothingly, cupping her cheek and looking at her with such love that it melted her heart. "There is no reason to be embarrassed. It is a natural result of our expressions of love last night. And the gift you gave me is beyond price. You have no idea what it means to me to know I was your first…and your last. This is just proof of that amazing fact."

"Still, I would really rather we wash the bedding ourselves…or burn them," she told him, a nervous giggle. "I don't want Janet seeing this, let alone having to deal with it."

"Very well," Erik nodded, understating her reticence at announcing her sexual status to the world…a world who would have already assumed they had passed this milestone a month ago. "After breakfast we will become domestic and do some laundry…satisfied?"

"Very!" Christine grinned. Yet before she could say any more, Erik scooped her up, sheet and all, carrying her to his washroom, eager to aid her in the washing process. "ERIK!" she squealed. "What are you doing?"

"I am fulfilling my bride's desire for a shower," he explained, sounding as if it were to become a daily occurrence…much like his insistence on always making her breakfast.

"I'm quite capable of doing so myself," she informed him.

"A fact I am fully aware of," he agreed. "Though you must allow me this pleasure, my dear. I have never had the privilege of sharing such an intimate task with anyone…and I would dearly love to experience it with you." Erik's cheek blushed slightly. "And…it _is_ one of the things on my list, you know."

"Oh…well, since you put it that way," she said with only a slight bit of hesitation. "I suppose it would be all right. In fact, it might be fun."

"Oh, I am counting on it," Erik told her, a wicked smile on his face, kicking the bathroom door open with his foot and striding inside.

.

.

Christine did find showering as a couple a lot more enjoyable than she ever imagined, quite enthralled by the whole process. She closed her eyes and relished the feeling of Erik washing her hair, his amazing fingers massaging her scalp as he lathered the shampoo through her tresses, humming a happy little tune as he did so. Christine wondered if she should feel more self-conscious, being so exposed to someone like this, but each time she gazed up at Erik's unmasked face…no false sense of modesty would come. She now felt as free around Erik as she hoped he felt around her.

She had never realized how erotic taking a shower with her husband could be, and the fascination was only heightened by the idea that this was the first time she had ever been in his bathroom. It was nearly identical to hers, with one exception, where her dressing table sat in the corner, Erik's sported a large Jacuzzi tub, complete with jets and everything. This was now something Christine was eager to try out…and soon!

The first few minutes of their shower consisted of Erik examining her with a critical eye, searching for any signs of injury she might have acquired during their attack the previous night. Thankfully he had found only a small bruise on her shoulder where the thug had shoved her into the wall, and a tiny scrape on her palm, when she had fallen to the ground. Both were rather superficial, but Erik had lovingly kissed each wound with great reverence. Christine then insisted on doing the same for him, drawing moans of delight from him as she blessed each bruise and scrape with her own lips. She ended by lavishing a great deal of attention on the scar across his chest, doing her best to wipe out any horrible memories that were still associated with this particular wound.

Once the examination was over, and the delightful washing had begun, Christine had shamelessly allowed Erik's hands to roam over her wet and soapy skin. The action caused her to think back to the night before, of how wonderful it had been to feel so loved, so cherished, and adored. She had been nervous at first, her short-lived bravado giving way to timidity and uncertainty. Yet, from the first kiss, to their final gasps of delight, Erik had been nothing but gentle and attentive, dispelling any fears or reservations she might have had. Several times, in fact, he had halted his ministrations to ask if she was alright, or if he was moving too quickly. Each time she returned the favor, soothing _his_ worries with words of love, desperately begging for him to continue, never for a moment wanting him to stop.

Yes, there had been those brief moments of discomfort, causing her to wince or cringe, but Erik had been quick to calm her fears as well as any pain, bringing back the pleasure and delight. After that, things had escalated to dizzying heights, making her feel things she had never dreamed possible. And when at last Christine had felt something building within her, bursting free as stars danced behind her eyes, she finally knew what all the fuss was about. It had been truly amazing! Now just thinking of it was causing her to ache for him, wishing to feel it all over again, but she took Erik at his word, and decided it best to wait a bit before trying such lovely things again…like maybe an hour?

Christine had to chuckle at herself, thinking that she had very little willpower where Erik was concerned, and loved the fact that she so desperately desired her husband.

"And what has you smiling so, my sly little wife?" Erik asked, his hands sending a thrill up her spine as he ran them seductively down her sides, coming to rest on the curve of her hips.

"You, my amazingly sexy husband," she giggled, turning to face him as she wrapped her arms around his neck, doing her best to reach his lips. Thankfully his large frame was shielding her from the spray of the shower nozzle, otherwise she would have been met with a mouthful of water, instead of his eager lips. "I wish I had known then what I know now…if so, this marriage would have gotten off to a much better start."

"A blunder that I take full responsibility for," he said apologetically. "Looking back, I see where I made so many mistakes that I am amazed you agreed to sign the contract at all. It was out of fear that you would refuse me that caused me to take such a drastic route. I have never been one to suffer defeat well, thus I avoid the possibility at all costs. Please forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive," she assured him, once again letting her fingers gently trace over the unfortunate side of his face. "I understand your reasons…I truly do. And while I admit to being quite stunned by everything that happened, I don't regret one moment. Not only is my father being taken care of, now with a strong chance of a full recovery…I got _you_ in the deal as well. And really, _you_ are the best prize of all."

"Only one as kind and generous as you would see it that way, and for that I am glad," Erik smiled. Their intimate little moment was broken by the sound of her stomach giving a growl of protest, their dinner last night now hours and hours ago. "Shall we dry off and see to getting you some breakfast?" he laughed.

"Yes, please," she said with a sheepish grin. "With bacon?"

"Would it truly be breakfast without it?" he questioned, shutting off the water and opening the glass door to exit, holding her hand so there was no chance she might slip.

.

.

Once they were sufficiently dry, Christine realized that she had nothing to put on, yet Erik quickly took care of that. Reaching into his bathroom closet, he pulled out a fresh pair of his sleeping clothes. He gauged the fit of the shirt against her naked body.

"Well…as much as it pains me to cover up such a lovely sight, I think this will do nicely." Holding it above her head, Erik helped Christine slip it over her arms and torso, watching as the hem fluttered down around her knees. "Perfect!" And in Erik's mind it was. If he had been turned on by seeing her in the sexy lingerie he had purchased for her online, that was nothing compared to how he felt seeing her wearing _his_ clothes. Aside from nothing at all…this was now Erik's favorite sleepwear for his wife.

"And what will you be wearing?" she questioned, flapping her arms just a bit as the long sleeves swallowed up her hands.

"The other half, of course," Erik informed her, stepping into the matching pants and cinching up the drawstring at the waist. After helping Christine roll up the cuffs so her hands were once again free, he put on another of his sleeping masks and scooped her up in his arms. With a big smile, he headed for the bedroom door, fully intending to carry her around the house all day, just to remain close to her.

"Erik…why did you put a mask back on?" she questioned, thinking they had already dealt with that issue.

"Please forgive me, my dearest," he begged. "While I do not doubt your words, or your acceptance of my face, I have grown rather dependent on it over the past thirty-eight years…and am quite unable to give it up in the space of one night. No matter how wonderful that night was. It would be like me asking you to walk around in public without your shirt or pants. Thus, I must insist on keeping it in place once we leave the privacy of our bedroom. Please understand."

"Oh, Erik, of course I understand," she assured him, never wanting him to feel self-conscious or uncomfortable. "I'm just happy that you are willing to forego your mask when we are alone in _this_ room." She then got a sly smile on her face. "And as further incentive to do so, I promise that whenever _you_ remove your mask… _I_ will remove my clothes _. All of them_."

"Well…now that is a deal I can not only live with, but will take advantage of every chance I get," Erik chuckled, loving his spunky wife. "Now, breakfast?"

"Breakfast!" she agreed, waving her arm towards the doors, as if directing the way.

.

.

Erik and Christine were laughing and talking the whole way down stairs, not considering for a moment that they might not be alone in the house. That is until Erik pushed the kitchen door open with his back, spinning into the room with Christine still held securely in his arms…only to find Amir rummaging through the cupboards in search of some coffee.

All three froze in place, each locking eyes as they stared at one another in surprise. Christine was the first to react, giving a squeak of embarrassment and wiggling out of her husband's arms, tugging at the hem of Erik's nightshirt in an attempt to hide her bare legs. Before anyone could say a word, she scurried out of the room, eager to get back upstairs and dressed in something more decent.

"Be right back!" she called over her shoulder, the sound of her bare feet slapping against the hardwood floors as she disappeared up the stairs.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Erik snarled, rather upset to have his lovely morning interrupted by that pesky Persian.

"I was out of coffee at my place, and after the night I had - thanks to you - I needed a good strong cup," he answered back, still staring at his friend, though not quite sure how to react. "I was going to ask how _your_ night was, but from what I just saw…I'm guessing it went really, really well!"

Erik couldn't help but break into a wide grin at that. "I will not argue with you on that point," he said in a smug tone.

"So, seeing your face didn't drive a wedge between you and Christine like you imagined it would?" he asked, turning back to the cupboards as he moved items left and right. At last he discovered the coffee he'd been looking for, and pouring a generous amount into the machine, he switched it on. Soon the steaming brown liquid was pouring into the carafe, causing Amir to breathe in deeply, shutting his eyes as the pleasant aroma filled his senses.

"No, surprisingly it did not," Erik revealed, still rather shocked by the idea himself. "Apparently, it was my mask that had been keeping us from truly connecting…or so Christine claims. She said seeing _all of me_ removed that barrier."

"So…showing her the real you, led to…" here Amir waved his hand up and down, gesturing to Erik's rather suggestive attire.

"It appears so," Erik said with a confused shrug of his shoulders.

"Amazing. So, being upfront and honest with a woman is a turn on for them?" Amir questioned.

"Who knew…right?" Erik said, sounding just as surprised as Amir looked.

.

.

In just a few minutes the coffee was ready and the two men sat down at the table, each enjoying a cup of the steaming liquid. It was then that Amir chose to comment on Erik's rather colorful torso.

"They got you good last night, didn't they?" he said with a slight cringe.

"I think they fared far worse," Erik scoffed, acting as if his wounds were nothing.

"From the looks of them, I would definitely agree," Amir nodded, setting down his cup as he began to rattle off the injuries he had seen himself. "One had a broken wrist, another a broken nose, then a shattered knee, a near strangulation, and then the rest were knocked out cold…"

"Let us not forget the one _you_ took out," Erik jumped in, either wishing to give credit…or lay blame.

"Right, we can't forget him," Amir nodded rather proudly. "Anyway, I believe they'll all think twice before they take on what they must have assumed was an easy target. Still, I think they'll be recuperating in the hospital for a while."

"If I had my way, they would be in the morgue right now, not the hospital," Erik growled, his hand gripping his mug in anger. "Yet, I dared not do any permanent damage with Christine there watching."

"I figured as much, after I examined their wounds," Amir nodded in understanding.

"So, what happened after we left? How did you talk your way out of all that?" Erik asked, leaning back as he gave Amir a curious stare.

"I didn't," the Persian stated, not looking too pleased about it either. "They didn't believe a word I said and hauled me off to jail."

"I see," Erik nodded, hardly shocked by this piece of news. "And am I to now assume you broke out and are currently on the run?"

"No, I used my head and got out legally…well, somewhat legally," he admitted. "I called in a favor, figuring _he_ owed me a little something."

Erik's eyebrows shot up in surprise…and respect.

"Interesting. And he bailed you out?" Erik questioned. "That was rather generous of him."

"Well, no one knew why I was being released, and my guess is he covered his tracks pretty well so no one ever will," Amir chuckled, just imagining the anger on the man's face when he got the message. "But I was not about to spend a night in jail, being forced to use that ridiculous latrine in the corner of my cell, if I knew of a way to avoid it. And I certainly wasn't going to call _you_ for help."

"For which I am very grateful," Erik admitted, nodding his head in thanks. "As I was otherwise engaged at the time, and would not have answered anyway. So, who brought you home?"

"Thankfully, Gerald showed up at the station, otherwise I might have been forced to accept a ride from that ridiculous Raoul," Amir began, but was instantly cut off as Erik sat forward, his eyes full of anger.

"WHAT? Why?" he demanded. "What does that wretched _boy_ have to do with any of this?"

"Well, I'd called Antoinette from the alleyway, informing her that you had taken her car, leading the young Mr. Chaney to offer to escort Meg and Antoinette home from the ball," Amir explained, "Obviously she had heard the police sirens in the background and figured I would eventually be hauled off to jail. So, instead of heading home, your indomitable legal counsel insisted on coming down to see if I needed help. Which I didn't, but she hardly knew that. I was quite touched by her attempted rescue though…it's nice to know someone cares."

"Yes…yes, it is," Erik agreed, obviously thinking of his darling Christine. "Still, I do not care for that pesky boy hanging around, sticking his nose where it does not belong. Perhaps it is time I spoke to the lad personally, and made my feelings explicitly clear."

"Won't do much good," the Persian said with a sad shake of his head. "He's apparently dating Meg now, and from the way those two were eyeing each other all night, I don't see her giving him up any time soon, or vice-versa."

"Meg could do so much better," Erik scoffed, irritated by the mere thought of the young Mr. Chaney. "Did he give you any grief at the police station?"

"He tried to, but the ladies shut him down pretty fast," he chuckled. "Besides, it was pretty easy to ignore him while he was still dressed as a child's play-toy. And I, of course, was still wearing my impressive ninja outfit."

"Please tell me we have seen the last of that thing," Erik grumbled, worried he would catch Amir scouting the grounds in it, darting from tree to tree, bush to bush, trying to be as stealthy as a ninja.

"Perhaps…or maybe I plan on keeping it for special occasions," he grinned. "Your second month anniversary will be here before you know it."

"For the sake of my sanity, and your health, I truly hope you are joking," Erik said with a longsuffering sigh.

"Joking about what?" came Christine's question as she re-entered the kitchen, having heard only the last little bit of what they had been talking about.

"About Amir staying for breakfast," Erik spoke up, getting to his feet as he moved to embrace his now fully dressed wife. Damn, he missed seeing her in his nightshirt! "But truth be told, he has lots of work to do today and he just can't stay…is that not correct, Amir?"

"I…uhhh, yes," he finally spit out. "Lots to do, tons of things in fact…and I guess I should get right to them!" He stood up and pushed his chair in, poured himself another cup of coffee and headed for the door. "You two have a nice day," he said over his shoulder as he left the room. "And an equally pleasant night as well." His words were punctuated by a deep belly laugh, disappearing before Erik could bark out a retort.

"Insufferable Persian!" Erik grumbled.

"Oh, come on, he's only teasing," Christine chuckled, yet even she had to admit she felt a slight blush at what Amir had been implying.

"Well, he better watch his mouth or he might find my fist in it soon," he seethed.

"I think he's lonely," she surmised. "We need to find a way to get him and Antoinette together. I'd hoped last night's ball would have sufficiently kicked things off…but maybe we need to push them a little harder in the right direction." Christine moved closer and allowed Erik to take her in his arms, loving the way they fit so well together. "I'm deliriously happy being married to you, so now I want to see Antoinette and Amir just as happy."

"You know, should they ever get married, their initials would be A.A. And is that not the abbreviations for some alcoholic support group?" Erik pointed out, enjoying the irony.

"Erik…you really need to work on your attitude," Christine scolded good-naturedly. "And perhaps making me some breakfast would be a good start, Mr. Snarky Pants."

"Christine…you do come up with the most obscure pet names, do you know that?" Erik chuckled, loving every word that spilled forth from her precious lips.

"Then fix me some food and I promise to be quiet while I eat," she swore, turning him around and swatting his backside playfully. "Now get with the bacon, husband!"

"Whatever you wish, my wife," Erik agreed, a wide smile gracing his lips as he headed for the refrigerator. Oh, he was truly loving this new aspect of married life!

* * *

 **Awwww, look, Erik is so happy! And Christine does not seem at all displeased either. They are so much in love.**

 **So, how did their morning chat go?**

 **I did my best to keep it smut-light, just hinting at things, but not describing them in great detail. You can all use your own imaginations for that.**

 **Poor Amir, he had no coffee to drink at his place...and after what he put up with last night, he needed some wake-up juice.**

 **I think this is the start of a beautiful new chapter in their relationship! Don't you?  
**

 **Contest:** Since this is chapter 50...if you can tell me how many more chapters I need before I surpass my longest Phantom story, you will win a snippet card. You can win a second one if you can tell me how many chapters my _longest_ story of any kind is. (remember, I have told you before that I also write under another screen name). So take off your shoes and socks and get to counting. ha ha.

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Sleepypants:** You forgot about AMIR? How is that even possible. Oh, right, the whole unmasking and finally sleeping together thing kind of overshadowed things. ha ha. Nope, Amir was smart enough to let Erik and Christine have their private time...well, until morning and his need for coffee drove him out of his cave. Thanks. (your PM capabilities are still turned off - hence I must continue to respond to you as a guest.)

 **GuestWraithSnake:** Five wows? WOW! And yes, unmasking Erik differently each time does take a bit of thought. I mean how many ways can you rip off a mask? ha ha. Well, there will be lots more loving, that's for sure. ha ha. And I am in a fluffy mood at the moment, so why not! Nope, Christine does not know EVERYTHING, but that will come with time...or so she hopes. Tell Erik he's a Rogue One? He's a Star Wars ship name? ha ha. Amir probably sleeps in his ninja costume now...he loves it so. Yep, Christine sure loves her Phantom in the night. ha ha. Wow, that DWTS Tango was a bit steamier than I think Erik and Christine's dance was...that water at the end was hot. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Guest RP:** Glad that made you laugh. Oh, I think Amir deserves SEVERAL $100 bills. ha ha. And as for that Japanese restaurant, wait for it... Hmmm, did he call his dad? Or maybe his sister? Interesting ideas...you will see.

 **Guest:** Yes, fleeing the scene would have been the smart thing to do...but not the moral or ethical one. He stayed around to make sure the men got medical attention and to take the fall so it would never come back on Erik somehow. That and I really wanted to see him try and talk his way out of it. That was the fun part. I thought it was totally obvious who Amir called to bail him out. It was the president of Starbucks coffee...he couldn't let his best customer rot in jail. He would be out of business in only a matter of days! ha ha. I am pretty sure Amir would have died of embarrassment before Erik or Christine could have killed him if he had walked in on them. ha ha. Antoinette IS a shark...don't mess with her! She bites! Thanks.

 **Kristin:** Yes, Amir did a very good job. He got out of it very well...that's how. ha ha. Oh, as you probably just read, Erik and Christine did a lot of talking after they woke up. Lots of things were worked through...but more to come. So glad you like it.

 **PG4044:** It probably did...I mean if he had been wearing Raoul's costume, they might have laughed a lot, but perhaps not have had so many guns trained on him. ha ha. Hard to take Ken seriously. Thanks.

 **Cayla:** Amir is tops in my book...he does all that and more for Erik...but in return, Erik does a lot for him too. Yes, we don't often get to see Amir taking center stage in a chapter, but my husband requested this one, wanting to see what he did and getting tossed into jail. ha ha. The police probably thought everyone had just escaped from the loony bin, ha ha. But hey, no time to change clothes when your friend is in trouble. Amir will never be too busy or distracted not to insult Raoul. He knew he had to step up to the plate with Erik not around to do it himself. ha ha. Not wise to cross Antoinette...she has the brains, the brawn and the law degree to back her up! And Amir was released on a technicality...since he does not like mustard, and that is all they serve at that jail...he had to be let out. Right? ha ha. Thanks.


	51. Chapter 51

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 **Congratulations to all who guesses correctly on the last contest!**

 **And sorry I am an hour or so late in posting...I slept in today *awww* an unexpected day off.**

 **Now, back to our regularly scheduled program.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 51**

 **~X~**

* * *

After they shared a delightful breakfast, Erik headed upstairs to dress while Christine offered to put the dishes in the dishwasher. When he returned, he had a bundle of linens in his arms, leading the way to the laundry room just as his wife had insisted. Erik felt rather domestic as they ran the water, put in the soap and then pushed the buttons that would see the job done.

While they waited, Erik and Christine sat in the entertainment room, both of them eager to further define the parameters of their new relationship.

"Are you certain you have no regrets, Christine?" Erik asked, taking her hand in his and kissing the back of each finger reverently. "Perhaps you are seeing things more clearly in the light of day?"

"No, Erik. The only regret I have is that I didn't do this sooner," she assured him. "However, I don't think until last night I was quite ready for such a commitment."

"And you truly believe you can handle…my face?" he pressed, wanting no misunderstandings. "It will never get any better, in fact as I age, it will more than likely get worse."

"May I see it again?" she asked quietly. "I know you prefer not to take it off outside our bedroom, but no one else is here…and you said Amir has seen you without your mask. So…please?"

Erik paused for a moment and then relented, reaching up to remove it slowly. He did trust her…but old habits die hard. He watched nervously as she reached up and traced over the oddly shaped landscape of his face once again, her gentle fingers tickling slightly as they skimmed the paper thin flesh and jutting bones. How she could stand to even touch the almost skull-like appearance was beyond him…and yet, his wife had always been an amazing woman.

"Does it hurt when I touch it?" she asked, her eyes never leaving the mangled side of his face. "I don't wish to cause you pain."

"No, it does not hurt. But sometimes, when I have had my mask on too long, the skin becomes irritated and the nerves go a bit haywire," he revealed. "Thankfully, the ones attached to my mouth and eyelid don't seem to be effected, leaving me able to speak, eat, and blink normally."

"And kiss too," she added, giving him a warm smile. And to prove it, she leaned in placed her lips upon his, kissing him quite soundly before allowing her display of affection to wander. Christine placed little butterfly kisses along his jaw, across his cheek and even bestowing one upon his now closed eye, tasting the salty tear that had managed to escape. "Erik…are you all right?" she asked, pulling back in confusion.

"It…it just amazes me that you are able to…to look at me, let alone place your lips upon such a horrific sight," Erik whispered, gesturing with his hand towards his face.

"It is not horrific to me, Erik. And seeing it only makes me want to kiss you more," she revealed, wiping away his tear with her thumb. "Because this is a part of you that you don't share with anyone else…only me. I feel honored that you would trust me like this, Erik. And I swear that I will never give you cause to regret it."

"There is nothing about you I will ever regret," he vowed, reaching up to caress her cheek, just as she was doing to his. "You are all I have ever wished for. And from the moment I first laid eyes on you, I was awestruck - unable to believe that my dreams had somehow materialized before me. You are everything to me, Christine… _everything_."

"Now see, if you'd said things like that when you first offered me the contract, I might have been a bit more eager to sign," she laughed, moving over so that she could easily sit across his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and laying her head on his shoulder.

"Forgive me, Christine," Erik said with a smile. "I was a fool back then and I freely admit it."

"Yes, but you're _my_ fool, and I wouldn't trade you for anything," she stated firmly.

"Not even for Raoul Chaney?" Erik asked.

"Are you crazy?" she blurted out, laughing at his silly notion. "You're a million times better than Raoul! You're taller, stronger, a lot sexier, and you turn my insides to jelly with only one look…oh, honey, you're the whole package and then some!"

"I am pleased that you think so," he smiled, loving how open Christine was with her feelings.

"I don't just _think_ so…I _know_ so!" she assured him. "And I'm not the only one either. I'm starting to believe you might need to teach me a few of those fancy moves you used against those men last night."

"Whatever for?" Erik asked.

"So I can keep all those sex-starved women away from _my_ man!" Christine told him sternly. "I've seen how they ogle you, and I'm not willing to share! In fact, I'm almost tempted to hunt down those other two women you slept with and…and…"

"And do what?" Erik chuckled, loving this side of his wife.

"Oh, I don't know, but it wouldn't be anything nice!" she spat, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling. "I don't like the idea of other women having seen you naked…or enjoyed what we shared last night."

"I have never shared anything close to such pleasures with another woman, Christine… _ever!"_ he insisted, reaching out and tipping her chin towards him with his finger. "With them it was business…nothing more. Yet with you, oh, my darling, I cannot even begin to describe the difference. It was like nothing I have ever felt before."

"For me as well," she grinned, once more snuggling up to him, all her jealousy melting away. "Would you tell me about them?"

"What? Why?" he demanded. "Why would you wish to know that?"

"I just do," she said with a shrug. "I don't hold it against you, honest I don't. I just…well, I kind of want to know how you met them, what they looked like, and stuff like that."

"Neither one could ever hope to compare to your beauty, nor did they possess a heart so kind as yours," he insisted.

"Good to know," she said with a smug smile. "But I'd still like you to tell me about them."

Erik gave a sigh of defeat and began to relate the sordid details of his past liaisons to Christine. He did his best to keep it as clinical as possible, though in truth, each encounter had been little else. There was never any love or affection, only needs fulfilled and pleasure obtained. "And as for either of them seeing me naked, only _you_ have ever seen every inch of me…without dissolving into tears or screaming in fear," he told her, remembering Roshni and her rather unsettling reaction to his face. "I never removed my mask for Monique or Hanako, never once wanted to, or would have dared. While you made love to me _after_ seeing what I keep hidden…and you didn't run away or scream. You showed me true beauty and love."

"Well…" Christine began, lowering her eyes as she teasingly let her two fingers walk their way up his chest. "If you care to join me upstairs, I could show it to you again," she offered, giving him an eager smile.

"What?" Erik gasped in mock surprise. "I'm shocked to hear such things from your innocent lips, my dear. The sheets have not even finished washing!" He couldn't hide the little smirk on his lips however over her bold offer.

"And are those the _only_ sheets in the whole house?" she questioned, rolling her eyes at his teasing tone. "Or the only bed, for that matter?"

"No…they are not," he informed her with a smile of delight. He then gave her a pointed look. "Yet, are you sure you feel up to it? I will not push you, Christine. You are the one who will set the pace, not me."

"Then carry me upstairs!" she demanded with a laugh. "For I think this pace is far too slow!"

.

.

Erik needed no further urging, and soon he was setting his wife down on her feet in the middle of their bedroom, striding over to a little closet built into the far wall that held the extra linens and pillows. In record time, the two of them remade the bed, giving no thought to replacing the blankets, knowing they would only be in their way. Erik had just finished tucking in the sheet at the bottom on his side, when his eyes fell on Christine, his sexy little siren having stepped back from the bed as she slowly began undoing the buttons on her blouse.

"Do you remember our agreement?" she asked, allowing the garment to slide off her shoulders and float to the floor. Her face, as well as most of her now exposed skin, had a lovely red hue to it, her bold actions causing her to blush. Yet, she was not about to chicken out, not when she felt Erik needed her to be true to her word on this point. And if it reassured him that she didn't care about his face…then Christine was only too happy to do it.

Erik gave a breathless nod, walking over to sit on the bed in front of her, eager to watch as she continued to undress for him. He had not replaced his mask before coming upstairs, and since he had apparently fulfilled his part of the bargain, Erik was looking forward to her doing so as well.

Strip clubs had never interested Erik before, feeling that such establishments objectified women, thus leaving him cold. Yet, to have his wife willing to stand there, and slowly shed her clothes for him, was beyond hot! He could feel his body instantly responding, wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms that very moment…but he was reluctant to give up such a view. As he watched, Christine let her designer jeans slip to the floor, stepping out of them as her fingers next went to the hooks at the back of her bra. Once that was gone, her underwear was the last to go, rewarding Erik for his patience with a full view of his beautiful wife.

"Now… _your_ turn," she insisted, stepping over as she began to do the same with his clothes.

Erik didn't argue one little bit.

.

.

An hour or two later, Christine woke to the sound of a pen scratching on paper, and turning over she saw her husband, propped up against the headboard with a tablet in his hand. He was grinning slightly and seemed very pleased with his activity.

"Erik?" she asked, pulling his eyes away from the paper and back to her. "What are you doing?"

"I am updating my list," he confessed, yet this time he did not appear to be embarrassed by it at all. "We have achieved several more goals as of late, and I thought it important to mark them off."

"Oh?" Christine was instantly intrigued, sitting up as she pulled the sheet up around her chest. "Will you share them with me?"

"I see no reason not to…especially since most have now been done," he agreed, allowing her to scoot closer so she could see the tablet. "See here…I was able to mark off several more since you last glimpsed the list. Holding your hand, joking around with you, going out to dinner, cuddling in bed, sharing a shower, and dancing with you." Here he stopped and looked at her rather curiously. "And while we are on that subject…when did you learn to dance the tango? Might there be some suave Latin dance instructor that I now need to eliminate?"

"Oh, please don't send Meg into oblivion, she's the only one friend I have at the moment," Christine laughed, knowing that Erik was only joking…or at least she hoped he was. "When I told her about our costumes, she said that it would be the perfect dance for Zorro and his Spanish Flower," Christine told him. "She and I have been practicing after school every day for nearly two weeks."

"Have you now?" Erik said in amazement. "Other than her obvious poor choice in men, I have to say Meg has a fine head on her shoulders then. I was quite surprised by your invitation last night, and you danced divinely. I swear that if there had not been an audience, I would have taken you right there on the dance floor. You are full of secrets, my little bride."

"I wanted it to be a surprise," she giggled, leaning her head against Erik's shoulder as she looked at the list. "What else have you been able to mark off?"

"Well…my favorite would have to be this one," he admitted, pointing at the last line. "Making love to you was the one I feared I might never get to cross off. And yet…now I can."

"Maybe you should put an extra check-mark by it, since we have now done it multiple times," she suggested, her cheeks turning a bit red at her words.

"Will we be adding a check each time we engage in such delights?" he asked, cocking his eyebrow at her questioningly. Christine loved the fact that she could actually see both his eyebrows now, though one was a little thinner than the other one. "If so, then I suggest we acquire another notebook solely for that, for I fear this one will not be large enough to hold the tallies for long."

"What will you do when you manage to cross off everything on your list?" Christine asked, noticing that only one or two items remained.

"I suppose I will make a new list," he replied, sounding rather happy about the idea. "Might you wish to create such a thing with me?"

"You're asking me to help add to your husband list?" she questioned, looking delighted by the thought.

"Of course…this is your marriage too," Erik pointed out. "What are some things you would like to see us do together?"

"Hmmmm, let me think," she mused, tapping her finger against her chin. "Well, you did mention a honeymoon at some point. And I believe that I no longer have any reservations about taking one with you. But not until after my father is better, all right?"

"As you wish," Erik nodded, though he quickly wrote down her suggestion.

"Now your turn, you add something to the list," she instructed.

"How about redecorating a room together?" Erik suggested. "Married couples do that quite often, do they not?"

"Yes, but only if their house is a wreck or something," she told him. "Whereas this house is perfect. I wouldn't change a thing."

"Well…regardless, I think I will put it on the list anyway," he insisted, writing it down. "Now, your turn."

The two of them went on for several minutes, each one making suggestions and scribbling it on the list. By the time they had nearly a full page of ideas, Erik had managed to slip his free hand around her shoulders, allowing his fingers to absentmindedly explore all the bare skin he could find.

"Erik…that tickles!" Christine squealed, trying to wiggle away.

"My apologies," he murmured, gently pulling her back to him as he leaned in to kiss behind her ear. "I just can't seem to get enough of you."

"You have the rest of our lives to catalog every bit of me," she laughed.

"How can all this be real? How can _you_ be real?" Erik asked, pure amazement in his eyes. "For once in my life I have everything I have ever wanted. And I _do_ want you, Christine Thorn…never doubt that."

"Just as I want you, Erik," she told him. "I am so happy right now I could burst. But I won't, since that sounds rather messy and we just changed the sheets."

"Thankfully, Janet will be back tomorrow and we will only have to worry about changing the sheets on the weekends," Erik assured her.

"Or…" she began, "On the weekends we could just move from one bed to the next, utilizing each spare room until Monday rolls around and really give Janet and the washing machine a work out!" Christine suggested with a wide grin.

"Yes…we could do that," Erik nodded, liking her idea very much. "Or, we buy disposable sheets and throw them away when we are finished!"

"Do they even make such things?" Christine asked curiously.

"If they do not, then I think we just stumbled upon a million dollar deal!" Erik told her excitedly. "We can sell them to hotels that are frequented by those wishing a one night stand."

"Ewww, let's not, alright?" Christine laughed, scrunching up her nose in disgust. "But if you want to invest in several dozen sets just for us, I would not be opposed."

"Only several dozen?" Erik asked, sounding a bit shocked. "That will not last us through the month!"

"Oh, you think so, do you?" she giggled.

"No, my darling," he replied, his voice suddenly husky and deep. "I _know_ so."

The next thing Christine knew, the tablet and pen had been tossed to the floor and she was instantly on her back, her strong and sexy husband hovering over her, his hungry eyes boring into her like molten rays. She could feel her heart skip a beat and a wave of excitement race through her body, oh how she loved him!

He began his slow form of seduction, though in Christine's mind it was hardly needed, still she didn't voice any complaints. The things that man could do to her body were surely a sin, taking her to the brink of ecstasy with what appeared to be very little effort on his part. It wasn't long before she was completely overwhelmed, raking her nails across his back and begging for more.

Erik happily obliged.

.

.

Once their lovemaking had come to a more than satisfactory conclusion, the two of them snuggled together for a while, whispering softly to each other as they attempted to catch their breath. This had quickly skyrocketed to the top of the list as their favorite pastime.

Yet, without any warning, Erik rolled away and leapt from the bed, spinning around as he scooped Christine into his arms, carrying her towards his bathroom once again.

"ERIK!" she shrieked, unprepared for the hasty exit from the bed. "What are you doing?"

"I intend on washing you again, my little tub-toy," Erik informed her, heading straight for the large garden bathtub in the corner. "I have yet to use this thing, and I was informed by the real-estate agent that it was large enough to fit two comfortably. Shall we see if she was telling the truth?"

"Well, it _would_ be prudent to make sure you weren't lied to," Christine agreed, nodding very seriously. "We can't let her get away with fraud, now can we?"

"I do love your analytical mind, Mrs. Thorn," Erik said with a smile.

"While I love that, and every _other_ part of you as well!" she grinned as he began to run the water, drawing them both a very lovely, and soothing looking bath.

.

.

The rest of the day, and night, they spent together, talking, laughing and loving, neither one wishing for the weekend to be over. Yet as Monday morning dawned, the two lovebirds knew it was time to face the real world once again.

"See… _this_ is why people take honeymoons!" Erik moaned, pulling his wife closer, refusing to vacate their nice warm bed. "If we were in Jamaica right now, no one would be expecting us to get up, get dressed, or do anything but lay here and make love."

"Is that where you would like to go? To Jamaica?" Christine asked.

"It is nice," he said with a bit of a shrug. "Yet tropical places tend to irritate the skin beneath my mask. Cold weather can do the same."

"So, Hawaii and Alaska are out," Christine surmised.

"Not unless you wish to go there," he insisted. "I could adapt."

"Oh, that sounds romantic," she said with a roll of her eyes. "You, willing to suffer through our honeymoon just so I can sunbathe and snorkel…or see some glaciers? No thank you. We will find a place that suits both of us."

"Again…how did I ever find someone as kind, sweet, and generous as you, my darling?" Erik asked.

"You made me an offer I couldn't refuse," she replied, doing her best imitation of the Godfather…which really wasn't that good at all. But it still made Erik laugh, leading him to roll her over towards him and kiss her soundly.

Of course the kissing led to other things and it turned out that Erik was over an hour late getting to work that day. Thankfully, Christine's first class started a bit later, so she made it in time…but just barely.

.

.

"What in the world?" Antoinette gasped, as Erik walked into the office, smiling broadly and sporting two large bouquets of flowers wrapped in colorful cellophane. "Are those for Christine?"

"No, Mrs. Giry…they are for you and Elizabeth," he informed them, handing one bouquet to his shocked secretary, and the other to an equally stunned Antoinette. "It has come to my attention that I have been quite lax in showing my appreciation for everything you both do for the company…thus I wish to rectify my oversight."

"Oh, Mr. Thorn…they're lovely!" Elizabeth gushed, bringing the flowers to her nose and inhaling deeply.

"And what are these?" Antoinette asked, noticing there were white cards attached to the ribbon holding the flowers in place.

"Just a little bonus," Erik shrugged, looking rather pleased with himself as the two ladies opened their envelopes.

"Three days at an all-inclusive luxury resort in the Hamptons!" Elizabeth squealed, rather excited over the gift certificate she found inside.

"I'm not sure I would know what to _do_ with three days off from work," Antoinette laughed, seeing that her card held the same thing. "What's the catch?"

"No catch, this is just me being a thoughtful employer," Erik informed them. He then straightened his jacket, schooled his expression, and suddenly transformed back into their usual stern boss. "But don't expect such things every day. Now…back to work." And off he strode towards his office, yet the two women were not fooled…they could still see the slight spring in his step.

"Dang!" Elizabeth told Antoinette as soon as he had shut the door behind him. "Mr. Thorn should have got married a long time ago!"

"No…I think he waited for the perfect woman to come along," Mrs. Giry chuckled, leaning in to smell the lovely flowers once again. "And it would appear that Christine more than fits the bill. For no one can argue that she makes Erik Thorn very happy!"

.

.

"All right, what bank did you just rob and how much of the loot do I get for keeping my mouth shut?" Meg asked, having noticed that Christine couldn't keep a silly smile off her face the entire time they ate lunch.

"Oh, Meg, you're so funny," Christine laughed, taking another bite of her BLT sandwich.

"And you're rather loopy," Meg retorted. "Did something special happen after the ball on Saturday? I mean, one moment you two were practically making out on the dance floor with that tango, and then poof…you both disappeared." Her eyes narrowed and she glared at Christine suspiciously. "Dish girl…spill your guts!"

Christine stared at Meg for a long moment, debating whether she should tell her or not, but in the end she knew if she didn't, she would certainly go crazy. Besides, she trusted Meg, and the little ballerina respected Erik…thus she was certain her secrets would be safe with her. So, looking around, making sure that Amir was not anywhere close by or eavesdropping, she blurted out her news in an excited whisper.

 _"I slept with Erik!"_ her words were followed by a squeal of embarrassment as she buried her face in her hands.

"Ummm, that's not big news," Meg said with a look of confusion.

"It is if I've never done it before!" Christine huffed, not having received the reaction she had anticipated from her friend.

"YOU WHAT? But…but…you've been married for over a month!" Meg protested. "And you just did _it_ for the first time? Why?"

"Well, we kind of got married really fast, and so…we decided to wait a bit…to, you know…get better acquainted," Christine explained, deciding that she had not completely thought this confession through. Now Meg probably thought she was a prude, or some sort of ice-queen.

"So…let me get this straight," Meg said slowly, doing her best to understand. "You married a hot stud like Erik Thorn…but kept him waiting a _month_ before jumping his bones?"

"Well, it just sounds silly when you put it like _that_ ," Christine said with a roll of her eyes. "I thought it was a very kind gesture on his part…to offer me time to get used to the idea."

"What was there to get used to?" Meg demanded. "He's drop dead sexy, has a body that won't quit, almost as much money as Bill Gates, and looks at you like you hung the moon and stars! Dang, woman…you've got some amazing willpower, that's all I've got to say!"

"Well, not anymore!" Christine said, once more dissolving into a fit of giggles. "Now I can't seem to get enough of him!"

"So…how was it?" Meg begged to know, scooting over a bit closer as she looked at her friend excitedly. "Was it all everyone says it is? Did he rock your world?"

"I'll say he did! I thought I was literally going to melt from pure pleasure," she said with a happy sigh, closing her eyes as she recalled the feeling.

"You lucky duck!" Meg squealed, at last delivering the response Christine had been hoping for. It was nice having a girlfriend to share such things with. "I can't wait till I get married and experience it for myself! You'll have to give me some tips though! Fair is fair, I taught you to tango, so you have to fill me in on the right steps for the horizontal mambo."

"Oh, Meg, you crack me up!" Christine laughed, reaching out and embracing her friend in a warm hug.

"Hey, I'm being serious!" Meg insisted, before dissolving into fits of laughter as well.

.

.

Across the way, Amir lowered his newspaper and watched the two women as they laughed and talked.

"Now, what has them twittering like a pair of magpies?" he wondered out loud. "Probably talking about shoes, or make up…or the latest heartthrob at the movies. Girls are such silly creatures." And with a shrug of his shoulders he went back to work, scanning the area for any sign of danger.

.

.

When Gerald dropped Christine off at Leathwood, she felt a bit hesitant about going inside her father's room. Would he be able to tell what she and Erik had done? Was it written all over her face? She had felt different all day…more like a woman, more mature. Would her father notice? Oh, she hoped not, for this wasn't a conversation she ever wished to have with _him_ , no matter how close they were. So, squaring her shoulders, she pasted on a smile and walked in, finding her father sitting in his chair with Susan next to him, holding a large tablet in her hands.

"How about chocolate cake?" the nurse asked, looking at Charles expectantly.

It was then that Christine heard the sound of a little bell dinging, much like they would have on a game show, and noticed two small lights on the ends of his armrests - one green and the other red. When the green light blinked, accompanying the bell sound, Susan smiled and scribbled something on her tablet.

"That's what I thought," she replied.

"What's this?" Christine asked, stepping forward to inspect what was going on. "What are you talking about?"

"I just guessed that your father liked chocolate cake," Susan explained. "And he confirmed it."

"He did?" Christine's eyes grew wide as she realized what the lights were for. "He's able to signal yes and no? He can answer you?"

"They set him up with the tap pads this morning," Susan beamed. "Here, sit down and give it a try!" She quickly vacated her chair and allowed Christine to take her place, urging her to ask him a question.

"Umm…well," Christine had waited so long to speak to her father, but suddenly she had no idea what to say. "Do you like it here, Papa? Are you happy at Leathwood?"

The bell sounded and the green light blinked, making Christine's smile grow in size. Eager to see if he would respond the oposite way, she quickly asked him another question.

"The other day, when I told you about Raoul…did you want me to go see him and talk about his dating Meg?" was her next question.

This time there came a buzzing noise, followed by the red light blinking on and off, signaling no.

"I thought that's what you meant," Christine blushed, deciding not to mention to him that she failed to take is advice.

"See! Easy, right?" Susan laughed. "Dr. Mills, ever the comedian, hooked up the dinging bell and buzzer sound as a joke, but it really leaves no doubt as to what Charles is feeling on the matter." This made Christine giggle as well. "And if it's a question he can't answer with a simple yes or no, try this." Here she handed Christine the tablet, turning it over and showing her where she had written out the alphabet in large block letters. "Just point to the letters and when you get to the one he wants, he will stop you with the answer yes, that way he can spell out words."

"Genius!" Christine said excitedly.

"Perhaps later when he is able to move his head with ease, we can hook him up with his own laser pointer, so he can do the spelling himself, but for now this will have to do," Susan explained. "Now, why don't I go down to the kitchen and see if they have any chocolate cake, while you two have a long overdue conversation." And with that, the kindly woman headed out of the room, leaving the two alone.

"Here's one I think I know the answer to as well," Christine said in a sly voice. "You're kind of sweet on Susan, aren't you?"

There was a pause and then at last came _ding, ding, ding_ , the green light long and steady.

"Papa!" Christine gasped, yet unable to hide her wide smile. "As Meg would say, you've got game!"

To that, Charles actually rolled his eyes, causing Christine to burst out with laughter.

She spent the next half an hour talking and asking questions, getting quick responses from her father each time, and even if their conversation was still a bit one sided, and somewhat slow, to Christine it was nothing short of a miracle. This was almost too good to be true, and the more they spoke, the more things she wished to know. However, in the end, the subject eventually turned to Erik and her marriage, causing Christine to take a deep breath before asking the question she had been dreading.

"Are…are you upset with me for marrying Erik, Papa?" she blurted out at last, cringing slightly as she waited for his response. It was several long, agonizing seconds before he replied.

 _Ding, ding….buzzzz._

"So…yes _and_ no?" she questioned.

 _Ding, ding._

"I'm sorry it seemed like we jumped into things rather quickly…but there were a lot of reasons for me to accept his proposal," she explained.

When she saw his eyes drift to the tablet with the alphabet Susan had made, she quickly allowed him to spell out a few words.

"YOU DID IT FOR ME "

"I won't lie to you, Papa…yes, I did," she told him, doing her best to not appear ashamed of her decision, for she wasn't. Perhaps she had been at first, but now, if she could, she wouldn't change a thing. "But I did it for _me_ as well. You saw how things were, we were broke, on the verge of being evicted, and I couldn't stand the thought of you in that horrible state-run facility! I was drowning in debt and misery, Papa. I needed Erik's help as much as he needed mine. It was a fair trade." Here she paused and took a deep breath. "I'll admit that I didn't love him a month ago, in fact I hardly knew him, but looking back, it was the right thing to do," she informed him seriously. "I can imagine that you were not happy about it though, were you?"

The red light lit up and the buzzing sound continued for quite a long time, voicing the extent of his displeasure.

"But, Papa…I love Erik _now_ ," she confessed. "It took a while, and we had several things to work though, but I can honestly say I'm completely head over heels in love with my husband." Here she looked down and gave a slight blush. "I wish you knew him like I do, Papa…if so I think you might actually like him as well. Maybe one day the two of you could even be good friends."

Charles' finger hit the red button rather quickly. _Buzzzzzzz!_

"Papa!" Christine huffed. "Weren't you the one who always told me to be forgiving and to give people a chance? I know you often said that no man was good enough for me, but that if I truly loved him, you wouldn't stand in my way. Well, I love Erik, I truly do. Won't you please _try_ and get along with him? For me?"

Another few moments passed before Charles closed his eyes and pressed on the green button, _ding, ding,_ effectively saying he would…for her.

"Thank you, Papa!" Christine smiled, reaching up and giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I love you so much!"

"I'm back!" Susan announced, coming back into the room wearing a wide grin…and a bit of frosting in the corner of her mouth. "I had to wait for them to frost it, but I got some chocolate cake!"

"And it looks like you did a taste test as well," Christine laughed, watching as her father's eyes immediately turned towards the woman's voice.

Susan reaching up and wiped the chocolate off her mouth with a slight blush.

"Well…someone had to make sure it was fit for eating, didn't they?" she chuckled, but then her eyes grew wide and she turned and reached for something on the window ledge. "Hey, I almost forgot! Those were some outfits you and your husband wore at that big charity party you attended the other night!" Susan handed her a newspaper, opened to the society page, where a huge photo of Erik and Christine blazoned across it in living color. It was of them dancing the tango, where he had just dipped her at the end, moments before they had kissed. "There's no hiding the smolder you two must have been feeling! It even says here that you guys set the dance floor on fire with your fancy footwork."

"I…well…wow," Christine stammered, finding that the photo did indeed capture their emotions quite plainly. It was strange, and a bit embarrassing, to see the moment captured in time, and to know exactly what had been going on in her mind.

"Wow is right," Susan laughed. "Even Charles was riveted by it. You can have that copy if you want, I'm all done reading it. You might even want to put it in a scrap book or something, after all, it's not every day you get to see yourself in the papers!"

Christine looked over at her father, feeling her face blush as she imagined what he had thought of the photo. It had lust written all over it. No wonder he had been a bit reluctant to agree to be friendly with Erik. After seeing that picture, of his little girl in the arms of a man who had that gleam in his eyes…maybe getting the two of them together wasn't such a good idea after all.

.

.

Erik had worked hard that day, breezing through more contracts and proposals than he had in a long time, all with a smile on his face. So this was how it felt to be in love…and loved in return? It really made every aspect of his life better!

When he at last arrived home, eager to see his wife once more, he was somewhat disappointed not to see Christine waiting for him by the garage door, offering him a hug and a kiss.

"Christine?" he called out, thinking perhaps she did not know he was there. When no answer came, he gave a frown. Had he done something to upset her? Was she angry with him? Suddenly disinterested? Yet before he could contemplate things further, his phone buzzed, alerting him to a text. Pulling it out he saw it was from Christine.

 _*I'm upstairs in the bedroom, my love. Naked. Don't keep me waiting.*_

Not even bothering to reply, Erik shoved the phone back in his pocket and bounded up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. He had already shed his suit jacket and was pulling off his tie when he made it to the bedroom door.

Yes, indeed…Erik _loved_ married life!

* * *

 **And so the fluff continues...and will for a bit, just to lull you into a sense of false security. ha ha.**

 **So, Christine now knows about his two past lovers, and she is willing to fight for her man...so stay away Phangirls.**

 **Erik brought flowers to Antoinette and Elizabeth...so sweet.**

 **Meg was shocked by Christine's confession, but they needed to have some giggly girl talk...Christine had to tell SOMEONE!**

 **Soooo, looks like Charles is still not sold on Erik. But daddy's are very protective over their little girls.**

 **And Erik got to mark off a LOT of fun things on his list...and they started a new one together. Awwwww.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **GuestWraithSnake:** Yep, I can guarantee this will be my longest Phantom story as I am already up to chapter 63. ha ha. Erik and Amir are more like brothers than they want to admit, but deep down they both know. And Christine knows it too...silly men. It takes a lot of planning to do ANYTHING with Erik these days, since what is there that hasn't been done? So many good Phantom stories out there with him in so many odd and different situations! She knows enough about Erik at the moment to love him. Oh yes, Erik is eye-candy for sure! All of him...well, maybe not the right side of his face, but we love that too. Erik kind of bit Amir's head off for being in the kitchen the next morning, can you imagine what he would have done if he had walked in on them the night before? ha ha. Oh, nice guess on who Amir called...it will be interesting to see how that all works out and if you are right or wrong. Raoul is a pest, but a lovable one. He and Meg are so smitten, and Antoinette approves of Raoul...even if Amir and Erik do not. You betcha, Antoinette will slay dragons to protect the ones she cares for, so watch out world! So glad you enjoyed the unmasking. The thugs that did it sure paid the price though. As for your questions: 1. I don't know, but best guess is around 70. 2. Lots of stuff. 3. Of course it does. 4. She's sure gunna try! 5. He is still recovering at Leathwood, and you will find out very soon what he thinks of all this. 6. Debatable...we will just have to see about that. Yep, fluffy is my specialty, just don't die on me. ha ha. And I regret nothing either, I love long reviews. Thanks.

 **Cayla:** Oh, there will be fluff enough to go around for a while, I won't toss them back into the drama just yet. Erik was not about to let her feel guilty for long, he took care of that. AND yes, they have come a long way in their relationship, right? No blow ups, no running and hiding, no throwing things, ha ha. Indeed, a new chapter of love has begun...and they are enjoying it very much. No, thankfully Erik did not kill Amir for seeing Christine's bare legs. ha ha. OH there are a LOT things left to come in the story - and so far 63 have been written. WHAT? You don't buy my mustard explanation? Drat, and here I thought I was being so clever. ha ha. Well, don't worry, you will find out soon. Thanks.

 **Guest:** Thanks for thinking I write fast. My husband thinks I write too much. ha ha. Silly man thinks I should spend time with him or do dishes or cook dinner from time to time. ha ha. It is my favorite hobby, so I do sneak away any chance I can and write. Thanks.

 **PG4044:** I'm glad it was your favorite...so far. It was a very big turning point chapter, right? More fun and fluff to come though. Thanks.

 **Lex888:** Yes, you guessed right on how many more I need to top MBTM...but unless you have an account I can't give you a snippet card. Do you have an account? As for me continuing to write Phantom fan fic...I am only as good as my latest idea...and the reliability of my muse, Erik. So we will see. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Kristin:** Oh, Amir has a long and sordid past just like Erik, so who knows who he's linked to that could bail him out. But you will learn in time. Yes, AA batteries is a good way to describe them too, they just keep going and going and going (now imagining the Energizer bunny) ha ha. Of course Raoul will never leave well enough alone, it is what makes him a good FBI agent, he wants the truth, and won't stop till he gets it. His brother already told him to can it...he no listen. ha ha. Thanks.


	52. Chapter 52

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 **I have fallen behind in answering your wonderful reviews again. Sorry. Two others are on vacation at my office, so I am working extra days to cover for them.**

 **I will catch up soon!**

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 **Chapter 52**

 **~X~**

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Erik and Christine decided it was probably best that they force themselves out of bed when dinnertime rolled around, not wishing for Mrs. Murphy to come hunt them down. As his wife gave him a long lingering kiss, and then dashed to her bathroom for a quick shower, Erik remained where he was for a minute longer, simply reveling in the moment. Ahh, yes…this was the life.

An irritating buzzing noise from Christine's side of the bed caused him to turn, frowning slightly until he realized it was her cell phone, telling her she had a text. Reaching over, Erik hit the button, figuring it was probably Meg asking about a lunch date or something like that. Yet when he saw the name on the screen, his eyes narrowed in anger. _Raoul!_ That blasted boy would be the death of him, Erik was sure of it. Knowing it was wrong to snoop, but unable to stop himself, he opened the message and read it quickly.

 _*Christine…just checking to see if you're all right. You disappeared so quickly after the charity ball…and then there was that whole mess with Mr. Dessan getting arrested for assault and battery. I need to know you're safe. Please text me back. I'm worried. Raoul.*_

Erik gave a low growl in the back of his throat, his fingers tightening around the phone in a deathlike grip…if only it was that foolish fop's neck he was squeezing. Glancing at the bathroom door, and still hearing the shower running, he quickly typed back a message.

 _*Can you meet me to talk tomorrow? In the public parking garage located on Lozier Street? I will be on the ground level, section D at one in the afternoon.*_

He then hit the send button and waited for a reply. It wasn't long before he got one.

 _*Yes, of course. See you then. And Christine…please be careful.*_

Erik seethed at the wretched boy's warning…oh, it wasn't Christine who needed to be careful, he thought to himself. He quickly deleted the text thread, and altered a few of his digits in her address book. Now it would be impossible for her to contact him. Feeling rather pleased with himself, Erik replaced the phone on her nightstand and headed to his own bathroom to shower as well. Wouldn't Agent Chaney be surprised by who shows up to meet with him tomorrow!

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After dinner, Erik and Christine kissed and snuggled together on the sofa, watching a movie and reveling in each other's company. This was the last week of school at Juilliard, before they would be taking a couple months off for summer break. Part of her wished it was longer, but she also knew that very soon she would miss her classes and want to be back singing. Still, Christine was determined to make the best of her time off, spending it with her father, maybe doing some more planting in the back yard, and of course lavishing as much attention on Erik as she could.

The following day, Erik gave his wife a very slow and delicious kiss goodbye, telling her that it would have to keep him going until he returned home that evening. Considering his logical thought…Christine gave him two – one for now and the other to save for lunch time.

Thus, they parted ways, one heading off to Phantom Industries, and the other to Juilliard, both with smiles on their faces.

Yet, when twelve-thirty rolled around, Erik's pleased expression faded into one of utter irritation. Announcing to Antoinette that he was taking a long lunch, he slipped out and headed across town to his secret rendezvous.

Erik had been waiting in the shadows in section D, the furthest and darkest, part of the structure, for nearly fifteen minutes when he saw a grey Chevy Malibu pull in, parking in a spot as the driver climbed out, looking around curiously.

"Christine?" he called, his eyes searching for the woman he was supposed to meet. When no answer came, he pulled out his cell phone, apparently checking to see if he had received any messages from her, telling him she might be late. Yet before he could do so, a deep voice startled him, causing Raoul to jump and spin around.

"Christine will not be coming," Erik informed him, stepping out of the shadows and into view.

"What? Why?" Raoul sounded alarmed, yet not for himself. "What did you do to her?"

"I did nothing to my wife," he spat, hating this boy now more than ever. "I would never harm Christine! She will not be coming because she knows nothing about our little meeting…for it was I who responded to your text last night, not her."

"So…now you're intercepting her messages? That's not creepy or controlling at all," Raoul accused, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Is Christine not even allowed to converse with her friends without you monitoring her?"

"She can speak to whomever she wishes," Erik assured him. "Just as long as they are not out to destroy our marriage and implicate me in nefarious activities."

"And do you deny that you are, in fact, involved in such things?" Raoul accused.

"I am not obligated to explain myself to you, or anyone else, boy," Erik hissed. "Christine is perfectly fine…better than fine, in fact! And I came here today to warn you never to contact my wife again with your piddly concerns."

"Is that a threat?" Raoul's eyes narrowed as he looked at the ominous man before him.

"No…that is a simple request," Erik stated. "One I would highly suggest you take to heart."

The two stood there in silence for a while, cautiously sizing the other up. At last Raoul spoke, pointing at Erik's hands, which were clenched at his sides.

"I see that I was correct about you," he said. "From the looks of your knuckles, it's obvious you've been in a brawl recently. It _was_ you in the alley Saturday night…is Christine aware that you put seven men in the hospital? That she is married to a man with violent tendencies."

"Jumping to conclusions is not a healthy pastime, Mr. Chaney," Erik warned. "And you might not want to believe everything you hear, especially coming from a gang of street thugs. For as much as you apparently hate me, even _you_ might agree that my word is more reliable than that of street scum looking to rob innocent pedestrians…or take advantage of a helpless woman."

"Was…was Christine injured?" Raoul's expression changed drastically, suddenly concerned over his friend.

"No, she was not. As I said before, I would never allow Christine to suffer harm…from anyone!" Erik answered, now sounding offended by his question. "Now, if I have made myself perfectly clear on matters, I will bid you adieu and hopefully our paths will _not_ cross again…if you wish to remain healthy." He then turned to leave, more than finished with the conversation.

"You can't keep me from checking on Christine!" Raoul yelled, stepping forward and grabbing Erik's arm, spinning him around to face him. Yet before he could get another word out, he felt himself being slammed against the brick wall, as Erik's hand gripped tightly around his neck.

"Foolish move, boy," Erik hissed, his face now dangerously close to Raoul's. "By attacking me first, that gives me the right to defend myself. Would you like me to show you just how violent I _can_ be?"

"Harming…a federal officer…is…a crime," Raoul managed to get out between gasps.

"And that is the only thing stopping me from squeezing harder," Erik informed him, before releasing his hold and watching Raoul slump to the floor, coughing and rubbing his neck. "Now, take my advice, and stay clear of me and my wife. Next time I might not be as… _forgiving_." And in one fluid motion, Erik turned and all but vanished into the shadows of the parking garage.

Raoul was at last able to catch his breath, rising to his feet as he looked around. There were surveillance cameras throughout the structure, but as he stared at the one pointed at their location, he couldn't say he was surprised to see that it was obviously broken, the frayed wires sticking out of the top giving visual proof of that.

"That sly bastard," Raoul grumbled, knowing there was no way he could prove to Phil or Christine what a monster Erik Thorn was. And as much as he wished he could go directly to his brother and tell him what had just happened, he knew that doing so would get him in more trouble than he wanted. Since the Regional Director of the FBI had already instructed him to stay away from the masked man and Christine, admitting to contacting her and then having a meeting with Thorn would lead to a severe reprimand…if not termination. No, he would just have to continue his investigation on his own. He would bring Erik Thorn down, and rescue Christine, if it was the last thing he did!

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Over the next several days, the two lovebirds continued to revel in marital bliss, Christine remaining quite ignorant to her husband's clandestine meeting with Raoul. They sang, talked, ate dinner, and of course made love every chance they got, until Friday rolled around, marking the end of Juilliard's school year.

"It will only be for a couple of months," he reminded her when Christine looked saddened by the mandatory break. "And we will continue your lessons in the music room in order to keep you in practice."

"I know…but I was having so much fun attending classes," she pouted, allowing Erik to wrap her in a comforting embrace. "Still…I suppose having a little time off will be nice, maybe I can ask Mrs. Murphy to teach me to prepare a few more of your favorite dishes."

"Just be careful," Erik warned, giving her a little wink. "She might not appreciate you trying to take over her job."

"As if I could ever hope to cook as well as _she_ does," Christine said with a roll of her eyes. "I think she's quite safe."

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It was a rather emotional day for Christine, having to say goodbye to so many of her new friends and professors. Most would be returning for another year of classes, but a few of them were moving on to bigger and better things, hopefully in their chosen field of music or dance. Both Professors Stanley and Reiner were overjoyed that Christine had already re-enrolled for the fall semester.

Christine decided she would miss seeing Meg the most, having thoroughly enjoyed their talks during lunch and the dance practices they shared. It was fun having a girlfriend to laugh with and share secrets, and the two women promised to get together as much as possible over the break.

Later, when she arrived at Leathwood, she told her father all about her final day, lamenting to him as well how much she would miss her classes. Charles did his best to comfort her, though with only being able to respond in yes or no answers, and a few limited words he spelled out using the alphabet Susan had made up, he was not sure how much of a help he was. Still, just talking to him about it made Christine feel much better, and she left the facility with a smile on her face.

Each evening, Erik made a point to take Christine out for driving lessons, starting on backroads and semi-deserted highways until she gained a bit more confidence. The one thing Christine appeared to be having trouble with was stopping and starting too quickly, several times causing Erik's head to slam against the headrest, or the seatbelts cinching across his chest in a misguided attempt to save them from an accident. She would look over at him rather sheepishly and promise to do better, but after several more jerky stops and starts, Erik came up with an idea.

"Pretend that I have just placed a very expensive, and very full, glass of wine on the dashboard," he told her, pantomiming the action of him doing so. "Now, every time you start out too fast, or stop too quickly, you are going to spill that sweet, sticky, and highly stainable wine all over your brand-new car. Is that what you want?"

"NO!" Christine gasped, horrified by the idea.

"Then, remember that thought whenever you accelerate or stop…go smoothly and the wine will remain in the glass." He gave her a wide smile. "And the more wine there is left over after your lesson, the more we will have to celebrate with for a job well done."

This had Christine laughing, but much to his delight, there was a marked improvement in her stops and starts, causing Erik to no longer fear getting whiplash from their lessons.

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After only a few more days, Erik was very impressed by Christine's progress, as well as her skills at handling her SUV.

"I must say, my dear, you are quite the model student," Erik complimented.

"That's not what Meg's told me on occasion," she laughed, turning off the road and heading up their driveway. "Yet, I don't think anyone could ever impress her with their dancing skills, not with as awesome as she is at it."

"You must recall that Miss Giry has been practicing her craft since she was quite young, and you shouldn't compare yourself with a trained ballerina," Erik informed her. "You are extremely graceful, and I for one would never pass up the opportunity to dance with you."

"Well, aren't you the flatterer today," she grinned, hitting the button to open her small private garage and parking like an expert. "I think that earns you a kiss, Teacher."

"I will take the kiss, but I very much hope this is not how you reward all your professors when they compliment your work," Erik joked, leaning in to accept his reward.

"Oh, no…I only give them thank-you cards," she grinned. "I save my kisses for only you."

"I am glad to hear it," Erik smiled, getting out and coming around to help her from the vehicle. "How about we spend a little time in the music room this evening, where I can find many more reasons to compliment you, and receive my preferred reward."

"Sounds great to me!" Christine laughed, taking his arm as he led her inside.

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By the end of the week, Christine decided that she felt confident enough to take the driving test, making her appointment for Friday afternoon. Unfortunately, Erik said he would be tied up in meetings all day, so he was forced to allow Amir to take her to the DMV. Which, in retrospect was not a bad idea, seeing as how Erik's mask always caused quite a stir at banks, and other government buildings. This was probably for the best.

Amir had suggested they drive her car to the appointment, seeing as how she had been practicing in it, and would feel the most comfortable…that and he was still leery about letting her near his own vehicle again. The two of them sat in the waiting room, eager for her name to be called, and when it was, Christine leapt to her feet in excitement, handing the instructor her filled out paperwork. After taking note that all was in order, she gave Amir a hopeful wave and headed out to the parking area to take her test.

It was nearly a half an hour later when she returned, a wide smile lighting up her face as she held out a slip of paper with the word 'passed' stamped on it in red letters.

"Congratulations!" Amir told her, giving her a big hug. "I knew you could do it."

"Thanks! I started off rather nervous, but as we went along, I think I leveled out, and by the end, I was doing really well," she told him, before heading over to the line where she would get her picture taken for her brand new driver's license.

Once she had her temporary card in hand, her permanent license coming in the mail later the following week, she climbed behind the wheel of her car and informed Amir they were heading for Phantom Industries to tell Erik the good news.

"Wouldn't you rather just tell him tonight when he gets home?" Amir asked, his brows furrowing together in concern. "Why drive all the way into town? We'll probably hit rush-hour anyway."

"Oh, come on, stop being such a fraidy-cat," she chided. "My car has plenty of airbags, you'll be fine."

"I'm not concerned about your driving," Amir said with a roll of his eyes. "I just think that today is not the best time to be visiting Erik at work. He said he would be very busy…that's all."

"Well, weren't you the one who once told me that he would be happy to see me, no matter what he was doing?" And when Amir couldn't think of any rebuttal, Christine put her SUV in gear and pulled safely onto the street.

Amir quickly slipped out his phone, pretending to check his messages, and sent a quick text off to Erik. He only hoped he got it in time.

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The traffic was not bad, and soon Christine was parking in the garage, finding a spot near the elevator that Erik had reserved specifically for her - once she got her license. She loved seeing the little sign on the wall in front of her saying _'reserved for Mrs. Thorn'_ , telling all that she was now a legal driver. She knew it was not exactly a major accomplishment, but to her it was huge.

As they got out, Christine noticed that Amir still appeared hesitant, acting as if he were looking for someone…or something. She was about to ask him was his problem was, when it occurred to her that he might be looking to see if Antoinette was at work that day, hoping to spot her car and ensure that he would get to see her. Christine really had to make a point of getting those two together socially.

In the elevator, Amir punched in the code, this time telling her what it was, for future reference. Committing it to memory, Christine found herself bouncing on the balls of her feet, anxious to reach the top floor and tell Erik she had passed.

Yet when the doors opened and she skipped into the waiting room, her good mood evaporated. For there, sitting in one of the chairs, was none other than that slimy guy, Morte. When he saw her skid to a stop, his face lit up in recognition, rising to his feet as he grinned lasciviously at her.

"Well, well, well…if it isn't the sweet little waitress from the Italian restaurant," he said, his voice grating on Christine's nerves. "You're looking as delicious as ever."

Christine was literally too shocked to respond, but thankfully, Amir was there to do it for her.

"You watch your mouth!" Amir ordered, taking hold of Christine's arm as an offer of protection. "You're speaking to Mrs. Thorn…show some respect!"

"Oh…so _you're_ the girl Thorn married?" Morte sounded genuinely surprised…and suddenly a bit afraid. "My sincerest apologies, and may I instead offer my congratulations. Your husband is a very lucky man."

"That I am," came Erik's rather deadly voice, having just emerged from the conference room, followed by several other men…one of whom Christine recognized from the charity ball. If she wasn't mistaken, he was that horrible Carlotta De'Rossi's uncle. "However, if you keep leering at my wife like that, I can guarantee that _you_ will not be as fortunate!"

"Come now, Thorn," Joseph De'Rossi laughed, unaffected by the obvious tension in the air. "Lighten up. You can't have a gorgeous wife and not expect men to appreciate the view." He then walked forward and took Christine's hand in his, bringing it to his lips and giving it a somewhat sloppy kiss. "It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, my dear, especially after your captivating performance at the charity ball. Joseph De'Rossi, at your service."

"Christine is in no need of your service," Erik growled, stepping over and possessively removing her hand from De'Rossi's grasp. This only caused Joseph to chuckle softly.

"If you are willing to protect our goods the same way you do your wife, I think we will work very well together," he stated.

"Sir…I…I should probably apologize for the altercation that your niece and I got into," Christine stammered, feeling very uncomfortable around this man. She wasn't sorry in the least, for Carlotta deserved what she got, but still, if this was someone Erik was doing business with, she could bite her tongue and at least pretend to show regret.

"No, no, not at all, my dear," De'Rossi laughed, waving her off. "I'm afraid I have spoiled Carlotta a bit too much over the years, but what's a loving uncle to do? She probably had it coming, for the mouth on that girl can be a bit harsh at times. It was quite entertaining to hear about how you took her down a peg or two. According to her, you have quite the temper…as well as a good right hook."

"Then perhaps Carlotta has learned her lesson and will stay clear of my wife from now on," Erik stated, still rather proud of how Christine had stood up for him. However, at that moment, all Erik wanted to do was see this conversation end, for the longer it went on, the more chance there was that his wife would learn something he did not want her to know. Why had Christine picked this very moment to show up anyway? "I believe we have concluded our business, am I correct?"

"For now, Thorn. I'll be in touch," De'Rossi said, gesturing for the other men, and Morte, to follow him to the elevator. "Again, it was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Thorn." And then they were gone, disappearing behind the metal doors as they closed together.

"What was _he_ doing here?" Christine asked, looking up at Erik with wide eyes, a mixture of shock and disgust on her face.

"It is…complicated," Erik sighed, knowing he would have some explaining to do. "Christine, will you please wait in my office while I speak to Amir for a moment?"

She seemed to hesitate at first, unwilling to be left out of any conversation she would most likely wish to hear, but with a sigh, Christine agreed, walking over to his office door and stepping inside.

Once the door was shut, Erik grabbed hold of Amir and pulled him to the conference room, shoving the man inside.

"What the hell were you thinking, bringing her here?" Erik growled, doing his best to keep his voice low so that Elizabeth would not hear them. "You knew that De'Rossi was coming by today!"

"I tried to talk her out of it!" Amir stated in his defense. "But she was so excited about getting her license that she insisted on coming directly over to share her good news. I sent you a text…didn't you get it?"

"Of course not! I was in a meeting!" he hissed, taking out his phone and turning it back on, seeing the message that Amir had mentioned…yet far too late.

"So, what are you going to tell Christine?" Amir questioned.

"As little as possible," Erik huffed. "Yet I fear the damage is already done."

"Yah, her catching you with De'Rossi was not the best thing, was it?" Amir nodded.

"No, it was not," Erik said firmly.

"Then you best get in there and start telling her something," Amir suggested. "The longer you leave a woman wondering what's going on, the wilder her ideas will become. Best to nip it in the bud as quickly as possible."

"Fine," Erik grumbled, "Do you still have the emergency set of keys for Christine's car?" When Amir nodded yes, he continued. "Drive it home for her, and take the rest of the day off, I will see to her safety for the evening." Then turning, he headed for the secret passage that led from the conference room to his office. He paused momentarily as he waited for the bookshelf to swivel open, allowing him to give Amir a deadly glare. "Oh, and you can just leave my hundred dollars on the table there."

"What? Why?" Amir protested. "I texted you! Is it my fault you didn't read it in time?"

"Yes!" Erik replied sternly, snapping his fingers and pointing to the table. "Money…now!" He immediately turned and left, not giving Amir an opportunity to argue the point any longer.

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Christine had been wandering around the room, looking at the knick-knacks and artwork on the wall, enjoying the amazing view from out his window when she heard his voice behind her.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting, my love," he whispered into her ear, causing her to jump in fright.

"Erik!" she squeaked, spinning around and staring at him in shock. "How did you…I mean…I didn't hear you come in." She glared at the door, which had been in her peripheral vision the whole time.

"There are more ways than one to enter, or exit, my office," he smiled, taking her hand and leading her over to the bookcase on the far wall. He showed her the lever to pull, watching her eyes grow wide as the shelf opened to reveal a tunnel. "I cannot always be seen coming or going, now can I? So I had a few emergency exits built in. Handy, no?"

"Handy, yes!" Christine nodded, still a bit stunned. "But also totally cool! Where does it lead?" she asked, peering inside.

"Quite a few places, in fact, including the conference room, which is where I just came from. It also leads to a hidden door in the stairwell," he explained, shutting it once again. "I have only had the need to use it a few times, when I wished to avoid a rather irritating client…or Antoinette's pestering. However, since she is aware of the tunnels as well, she has been known to cut me off at the pass. Irksome woman."

"Oh, stop," Christine laughed, slapping his arm playfully. "You would be lost without her and you know it."

"True…" Erik nodded in agreement. "Yet, I am not about to tell _her_ that." He then gave Christine a little wink. "And you are not allowed to either. It shall be our secret."

"And will you be sharing your secrets with me about why Joseph De'Rossi and that Morte guy were here to see you today?" she questioned, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared up at him.

"It was nothing important," Erik said with a shrug. "Just business."

"I got the impression that you didn't like that man…and I can guarantee that I don't like that slimy Morte fellow!" she stated firmly.

"Sometimes we all must do things we do not particularly care for," Erik told her pensively, as he walked back over to his desk and pulled out a chair for her to sit in. Once she was seated, he occupied the one beside her. "Much like going to the dentist to remove a cavity," he continued. "It is painful at the time, but in the end, it is over with and you feel much better. That is how I view my business with De'Rossi."

"And you're not going to tell me any more than that?" she questioned.

"This is one of those moments when it is best that I do not," he assured her. "Can you please just trust me on this?"

Christine was silent for a few moments, debating on how she should respond. In the end, she chose to give Erik the benefit of the doubt…after all, wasn't he currently trusting _her_ that she was not in any way involved with Raoul? The least she could do was offer him the same faith.

"Very well…I will let the subject drop," she said with a sigh.

"You have my thanks," he smiled, leaning in and placing a kiss to her lips. "And I will make it up to you, I promise. Anything you want, it is yours."

"You don't have to keep buying me things, Erik," she laughed. "Besides, I think you already know what makes me the happiest." Here she leaned over and tugged on his tie, bringing his lips back to hers once more, savoring another kiss from her sexy as hell husband.

"Mmmmm…I think I can guess," Erik grinned, bringing his hand up to wrap around the back of her head, pulling her closer as he deepened their kiss. He was just thinking about sweeping everything off his desk and taking her right there on top of it, when she pulled back with a squeal of excitement.

"Oh! I almost forgot the reason I came!" she said, her eyes bright as she dug into her purse, pulling out the little paper card she had been given. "Look! I can officially drive now! All by myself!"

"Congratulations! I had no doubt that you would pass with flying colors." Erik grinned, inspecting the black and white copy of her picture. "And I see that unlike most, your photo actually looks beautiful…yet I see no way you could have appeared otherwise."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Thorn," she beamed. She then looked up at him curiously. "What does your driver's license picture look like?"

"There is no photo," he told her, causing her eyes to open wide in shock.

"What? How? Is that even allowed?" she questioned.

"With enough money, one can easily get around most obstacles," Erik assured her. "Thus, I have no photo on my license…with or without my mask."

Christine was about to ask more questions about that, but decided that it was best to let the subject die. She was far too happy to risk ruining the moment by upsetting Erik. So, turning back to her own little card, she continued to gaze at it with pride.

"I didn't think getting my license would mean so much to me…but it really does," she confessed. "It gives me a sense of freedom I never had before, and with my pretty new car, I could go anywhere!"

"Well, anywhere you choose to go, I only ask that you let me go as well," Erik told her, only half joking.

"Deal," she promised. "Not that I plan on taking any road trips in the near future, but it would be kind of fun to drive myself to Leathwood or the market. Oh, and Meg made me promise that we would go out and celebrate as soon as I was a licensed driver. Would that be all right with you?"

"Of course, Christine," he said adamantly. "You can do whatever you wish. Just remember, to be safe and always come home to my waiting arms."

"As if I would want to be anywhere else!" she laughed, pulling him to his feet. "However, right now I want to explore that tunnel thing…as long as you hold my hand so I won't get lost."

"It would be my pleasure to hold your hand, for any reason," he assured her. Reaching over Erik hit the button on his phone, opening the line to Elizabeth's desk. "Please hold all my calls and tell anyone who might come by that I am in conference with a very important client and cannot be disturbed."

"Very good, Sir," Elizabeth agreed, a hint of humor in her voice, apparently well aware who Erik was referring to.

"Now…shall we?" he asked, holding out his arm as he walked her over to the bookcase once more, opening it swiftly and stepping inside. "Our adventure awaits."

"Where will we be going?" she asked, staying close to him as they made their way through the shadowy passage. "To the stairwell…or the conference room?"

"No, someplace infinitely better," Erik assured her, turning a corner or two before heading down a flight of stairs.

"I can't believe you have hidden tunnels in your office building," she giggled, extremely excited about the whole thing.

"I wished for them in our home as well, but I didn't have time to design and build a place from scratch," Erik admitted. "But the one we live in now has both the room and potential for creating a few, should I find the time to do so. Or we could easily purchase property and design ourselves a new home, with tunnels and secret passages built right in."

"I don't want to move!" she stated, looking up at him in shock. "I like our home."

"Of which I am glad," he told her, leaning over to kiss her on the top of the head. "However, I can see room for improvement, a few renovations here and there perhaps."

"All because you want tunnels?" she laughed.

"Not solely for that reason…but yes," he confessed. "Besides, I was under the impression that every husband needed what they call a _man cave_."

"But I don't think it literally has to be underground," she told him.

"If you say so, Christine," Erik said with a slight smirk. "Now…here we are."

Christine looked around, seeing nothing in particular that looked at all interesting.

"Here where?" she questioned. "I don't see a door or anything."

"You are not supposed to _see_ it," he explained. "That is the beauty of a secret door." He then ran his hand along the wall, stopping as he pressed against an indiscernible knot in the paneling. There was a slight click and suddenly a door opened right in front of her, causing Christine to gasp and step back in shock. "After you, my dear," Erik said, gesturing for her to enter. "Do not worry, it is quite safe."

Still looking a bit leery, she moved forward, pushing open the door a bit wider before stepping inside. Christine found herself in a small room, about the size of a large closet, one that immediately grew pitch black when Erik joined her and shut the door behind them.

"Erik?" she said in a worried tone.

"One moment, and then you will know all," he chuckled, digging into his pocket and producing what sounded like a set of keys. There was a little beeping sound and then a panel on the wall lit up, revealing a keypad. Erik quickly pressed a series of numbers, which caused yet another door to appear in the darkness, opening up into a room flooded with light. "Welcome to my former home, Christine."

Stepping forward she was instantly amazed at the beauty she saw, with windows on every side bathing the place with light. When Erik had said he had converted the entire thirteenth floor into an apartment, he wasn't kidding. Everywhere she looked was open space, with only a few panels and partitions blocking her panoramic view of the city. The furniture was of modern design, laid out in a very comfortable and pleasing manner, with each sitting area all but begging you to enjoy it to the full. In one corner of the apartment there were several pieces of elaborate exercise equipment, easily explaining where Erik got his rock-hard body. There was also artwork and sculptures strategically placed around, making it almost appear to be a museum, more than a home.

"Erik…this is…is…" Christine could not find the right words to describe what she was seeing. Everywhere she turned there was something new and fascinating to see.

"This place served its purpose for a while, but I much prefer living in a real house with you. For it is _there_ that I was blessed with the most wonderful wife in the world," He looked around, his expression turning solemn. "This was a lonely place, one without the light of love…without you. Here I existed, yet now… _I live_."

"Oh, it's not so bad," Christine mused, walking over and running her fingers down a fancy modern art sculpture. "It just needs a woman's touch."

"You are the first woman to ever set foot inside this place," he revealed. "Even Antoinette has never been allowed entry. I never wanted anyone to come here, to invade my solitude."

"And now?" she prodded, turning back to look at him curiously.

"Now I want to share everything I possibly can with you, including this place," Erik answered.

"I bet I know a way to make it seem more… _homey_ ," she whispered, approaching him as she let her hands run up and down the front of his tailored jacket, loving the way his rock hard chest felt beneath her fingers.

"Do you now?" he chuckled, loving the way her eyes were alight with desire.

"Yes, I do," she grinned, taking him by the hand and leading him over to where a large bed was hidden behind a partition, blocking it from any view of the windows. "And as a woman who has recently been given a license to operate a motor vehicle in the state of New York, I think I know just how to rev up your motor and get you to where you need to be. And…perhaps one day, you could teach me to drive a stick," she added, her cheeks now turning beet red at her rather shocking, and uncharacteristic, innuendo.

Erik gave a low moan and shut his eyes, allowing himself to be pulled along, loving the way his demure little wife could make even the most innocent of phrases sound erotic.

"I knew teaching you to drive was a wise move," Erik chuckled, moments before he was being pushed backwards onto the bed by Christine's gentle nudge. Falling upon the soft mattress, he quickly pushed himself up on his forearms, eagerly watching as Christine crawled up and over him, until she was only inches from his face.

"Mask off, please," she whispered, waiting until he complied, tossing the unwanted item to the side. And then, with a smile as wide as his own, she began kissing every inch of his bared flesh, her eager fingers working at his shirt and tie in an effort to find more. All the while Erik lay there pliantly, still amazed at how much his life had changed in the space of only a couple months.

Could things ever get better than this?

* * *

 **Oh, I'm sure it can and will...just wait Erik, just wait.**

 **So we finally get to see the Bat-cave! And Christine and Erik plan to christen it properly. ha ha.**

 **Amir...sorry dude, you never do seem to be able to keep hold of that $100 for long, do you?**

 **And what did you all think of Erik's meeting with Raoul? That boy sure has it out for Erik.**

 **Christine is now a licensed driver...everyone get off the roads! ha ha.**

 **See you all again on Friday!**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Cayla:** Yep, they ARE happy, and I intend on keeping them that way for as long as possible. See how nice I am? Lists are created for the sole purpose of crossing things off on them...right? As for their honeymoon...I have no true idea. But I'm sure I will think of something. ha ha. Yes, it was nice of Erik to give them flowers and a little vacation...but will they ever be able to get away from work long enough to use it? ha ha. Yep, Charles is 'speaking' again...watch out Erik! He said he would TRY and get along with Erik, but he never promised to succeed. ha ha. Hey, dueling violins would be the perfect thing for them! Yes, they do have music and Christine in common...they should build on that. Thanks.

 **GuestWraithSnake:** Thanks for saying so! Erik and Amir are brothers in all but blood! Like Cutter and Skywise (Points to you if you got that reference, ha ha) Christine believes that true love will conquer all. Erik is a catch, regardless of his poor face. No, I think Amir would have said 'Oops, sorry' and ran like heck...and by morning Erik would have forgiven him. ha ha. I was hoping you could follow my answers to your questions. ha ha. You see, Chocolate cake is not my favorite thing...I prefer vanilla. ha ha. I'm sure that Erik will grow on Charles...like a fungus. ha ha. Good to know you have no regrets. Yep, Erik was highly motivated to get up those stairs. There may be a whiff of trouble in the air, but it is still a ways off. I like your guesses...we will see if you are correct. And I found it cute how you called me PF33 this time. Isn't that Private First class? ha ha. Oh, I can see at least 70 chapters...perhaps a few more even. We will see. And yes, I guess I did slip that in, didn't I? I don't know if it was 'by accident' or not, but it sure fit there...and meant the same as what Weasley said too.

 **Guest:** Yep, Erik HAD to mark off his list. OH yes, Antoinette and Elizabeth soooooo earned those trips. Most men do fall for their nurses, they are suckers for women who take care of them. I see Charles as being in his early to mid fifties, still in his prime. I would say that Susan is just a few years younger than him. And yes, Erik did have a gag order on the papers, but this was for a charity event and I'm sure Antoinette authorized them being there to take publicity photos...but NOT the news hounds outside! Thanks.

 **Kristin:** Happiness all around! Meg and Raoul are fine. They are still dating happily. Yep, Charles is a model patient, getting better by leaps and bounds. I think poor Amir would have died of embarrassment if he had overheard the girls...and then ran right to Erik and teased him mercilessly. ha ha. Thanks.


	53. Chapter 53

.

 **Happy Friday**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 53**

 **~X~**

* * *

On Monday, Christine called Meg and made plans for the two of them to meet in the city for a night on the town. Erik offered to have Gerald drive them, but Christine insisted on taking her own car, reminding him that she promised to take her friend for a ride as soon as she got her license. Thankfully, Erik had already put her on his insurance, making sure to have full coverage on her car as well as extra liability…just in case. Erik was surprised how nervous it made him to think of his wife out there among other drivers, worried for her safety every moment she was out of his sight. Still, he knew that hovering over Christine like a mother hen would not endear her to him…so he gave her the space she needed.

"Drive safe and be sure to keep your phone handy, in case you need anything," Erik reminded her as she climbed into her SUV, ready to head to Meg's apartment to pick her up.

"Yes, dear," she smiled, leaning over to give him a peck on the cheek at his thoughtfulness. "And I know that Amir will be skulking nearby, as ninja bodyguards are prone to do, so I won't be worried…and neither should you."

"Yes, well, that is easier said than done," he admitted, giving her a sheepish grin. "I love you."

"And I love you," she replied, giving him a wink. Then she was off, heading down the driveway at a reasonable speed.

Amir drove up right behind her, stopping and rolling down his window to talk to Erik.

"Don't look so concerned, I'll keep her in my sight at all times," Amir promised.

"Be sure you do…but don't let yourself become a nuisance," he warned. "I want her to have fun and not feel smothered."

"Yes, Sir," Amir told him, giving him a jaunty salute. Then, with a laugh, he was off, following Christine at a safe distance.

Erik gave a heavy sigh as he watched the two sets of taillights disappear into the dark. It was going to be a long, lonely night.

.

.

Meg had raved over Christine's sleek ride, the two girls enjoying their evening out very much. They started out at a nice restaurant, then walked around the city for a bit looking in shop windows, before finding a nice club where they served drinks and had live music. Christine chose to just have soda, since she was driving, and Meg, always strict with her carbs, ordered a vitamin-water. Yet to make them appear fancier, they asked the waiter to stick some fruit on the side of the glasses and a cute umbrella as well.

The band was very good, and the two girls even got up and danced a bit, mingling with the crowd and having a marvelous time. Once or twice, Christine found herself wondering what Erik was doing, if he had eaten dinner, and whether he was watching TV or doing paperwork. She missed him, even though she was having fun with Meg…and it made her smile to realize that was how husbands and wives often behaved when apart.

"I'm pooped!" Christine yelled over the loud music, signaling to Meg that she intended to go back to their table and sit down. Her friend nodded and followed, also looking flushed from the warm atmosphere on the dance floor. "It blows my mind that you dance all day, and then still have the energy to do so for fun."

"My mother says I was born in motion," she laughed, taking a large sip of her drink. "I just can't seem to stop!"

"So, tell me, how are things between you and Raoul?" Christine asked, stopping the waitress as she went by and asking politely for a refill on her soda.

"Good," Meg grinned, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "He's so attentive, complimentary…and such a great kisser!"

"I hope that's all you two are doing," Christine said with a stern look.

"Who are you…my mother?" Meg laughed. "Don't worry, we are being very good." She then got an odd look on her face. "However, I kind of get the idea that he's worried about you."

"Worried about me? Why?" Christine questioned, though she thought she already knew the answer.

"I don't know, but I get the impression that he thinks you are in some kind of danger," Meg shrugged. "He doesn't talk about you at all…I think he's worried if he did I would be jealous or something. Whenever I mention you at all, he kind of clams up, but I do try and set his mind at ease, saying you're doing great." She then looked up at Christine. "You _are_ doing great, right?"

"Better than great! The best I've ever been!" Christine said joyfully. "Raoul is just a worry-wart. But I'm glad you two are getting along so well. He's a really sweet guy, and I couldn't be happier for you both."

"Thanks, that means a lot, Christine," Meg grinned. "Hey, speaking of guys…is it just me, or have you noticed my mother acting a bit odd lately? Like ever since the night of the ball, she's been walking around humming to herself, smiling for no apparent reason, and generally acting like she's got a crush! What gives?"

"Well…you didn't hear this from me," Christine giggled, leaning in to whisper into her friend's ear. "But I think your mother likes someone."

"Likes someone? As in like-like?" Meg gasped.

"As in serous like," Christine nodded.

"Who?" Meg demanded, eager to get a name.

"Amir Dessan," Christine revealed quickly, afraid if she hesitated, she would talk herself out of telling.

"The guy we had to go bail out of jail?" Meg was not sure if she liked the idea of that at all. "The one that works for your husband?"

"Amir is a really sweet man, and my bodyguard," she told her friend, doing her best to talk the Persian up. "And him being in jail that night was just a big mistake…he did nothing wrong, hence the reason he was released almost immediately."

"Yes…Raoul seemed very curious about that," Meg hummed. "Still…you really think my mother likes him?"

"And I think he likes her too," Christine confirmed. "You should get to know him better. Maybe if you did, you could give your mother a nudge in his direction." She then got a worried look on her face. "Unless you don't like the idea of your mother having a boyfriend."

"Are you kidding? I've been begging her to date for years, but she never says she has the time or the desire to," Meg told her. "I think my father, and what he did, really gave her trust issues. But if she's at last giving some guy the eye…I'm all for it. Do you think you could introduce me to him sometime? I kind of met him at the ball, and then at the jail house, but I can't say I've ever really had a conversation with him."

"I could introduce you two right now!" she said in an eager tone. "Just give me a minute to go round him up."

"What… _he's here?"_ Meg said in a shocked voice, her eyes darting around the room suspiciously.

"Somewhere," she nodded. "He _is_ assigned to guard me, after all." And with a smile, she hopped off her tall chair and headed for the restroom. Once she had turned the corner to the long hallway that led to the facilities, she stopped and leaned against the wall, waiting. It wasn't long before Amir came into view, following his charge like the dutiful sentry he was. "Hello," she greeted him, causing him to skid to a stop.

"Ummm, what's up?" he asked, raising a curious eyebrow at her. "Is anything the matter?"

"No, I was just wondering if you would like to join us for one final drink before we head home," she suggested.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," he hedged.

"Come on, one little drink…please," Christine begged. "I'm buying."

"Why don't I ever get an offer like that when I am allowed to drink alcohol?" he huffed. "Won't Meg be put out by me invading lady's night?"

"Not at all, in fact I think she would like to meet you," Christine insisted, taking him by the arm and dragging him back out, heading for their table. "Meg," she began, once they had arrived. "I would like to formally introduce you to Amir Dessan, the world's best bodyguard."

"Well, that might be stretching it a bit," Amir laughed, extending his hand to Meg, who shook it enthusiastically. "It's a pleasure to officially meet you at last, Miss Giry."

"Please, call me Meg," she giggled, loving his fine manners. Oh, yes, she could see why her mother liked him! "And I will call you Amir, all right?"

"That would be lovely," he nodded, taking a seat between the two ladies. The waitress came and brought Christine's refill, took Amir's order, and told Meg she would get her another as well. Once everyone had their beverages, the nosey ballerina began to grill Amir, wanting to know more about him.

"So, how old are you, Amir?" she asked, sipping on her straw as she eyed him curiously.

"Much older than you," he responded, giving her a nervous look. "And aren't you seeing that Chaney boy?"

"Oh, I'm not hitting on you!" Meg laughed, amused by his assumption. "I mean, you're a hunk and all, but you're not exactly my type. Sorry."

"No need to apologize," Amir chuckled, giving a sigh of relief. He had not been looking forward to letting the pretty blond down easy…or having to explain this to her mother! "Forgive me, I didn't mean to jump to conclusions. And to answer your question, I am over forty…yet not quite fifty. Does that satisfy you?"

"Yep," she nodded. "What is your favorite type of food, Amir?"

"My favorite food?" He thought for a moment and answered. "Japanese, I think. Or Italian."

"Are you a beer or wine man?" came her next question.

"Both…depending on the meal and the occasion," he informed her. "What is this…twenty questions?"

"Just trying to get to know ya," she smiled innocently.

"And what about you, Meg…what is _your_ favorite kind of food?" he probed.

"Anything that does not add on a bunch of pounds," Meg laughed, the other two joining in.

.

.

They talked for at least another hour, before Christine checked her watch, announcing that it was about time they headed home. The club had begun to clear out as well, and being the gentleman he was, Amir paid the tab before walked the two ladies to their car, seeing that they were safe before heading for his own.

Meg and Christine chatted all the way back to her place, a little plot forming between them over Amir and Antoinette. After promising to give her a call tomorrow, Meg got out of the car and waved goodnight, hurrying inside with a smile on her face.

On her way home, Christine schemed and planned, excited about the idea of fixing Amir and Antoinette up…and soon!

As she pulled into the garage and shut off the engine, Christine wasn't at all surprised to find Erik sitting in a folding chair against the wall, reading a book as he waited for her return. When she exited the car, he closed the tome and stood up, a wide smile on his lips.

"You are home," he stated, opening his arms as she came near. "I missed you."

"Obviously," she giggled, snuggling into his embrace as she gave a happy sigh. "But I missed you too, so I guess we're even."

"Did you have a nice time?" he asked, guiding her towards the door that led through his own garage and then into the house.

"A _very_ nice time," she assured him. "Meg and I had a ball together."

"I am happy to hear that," Erik nodded. "I want you to know that you are welcome to go out with friends anytime you wish. Whatever makes you happy, Christine."

"Even if it means you miss me so much that you must wait in the garage for my return?" she questioned.

"The house was lonely without you," he admitted, as they stepped inside and he locked the door behind them. "There was nothing on television, so I tried to work, but it was too quiet. So instead of sitting in the house, I thought waiting for you out there would guarantee that I knew the exact moment you came home."

"Well, next time you should come along then," she suggested.

"No thank you," Erik laughed with a shake of his head. "Even if it means being parted from you for a few hours, or that the house is a veritable tomb, I will not be subjected to an evening of girl talk. And I am certain that you two become a couple of twittering magpies the moment you are together."

"Maybe, but I still say you would have fun," she laughed.

"Oh, I know exactly what type of fun I would like to have with _you_ , my little wife," Erik said in a deep voice, pulling her to him as he began to nibble on her earlobe.

"Is that all you ever think about, Erik?" Christine laughed, trying to wiggle away.

"Lately…yes," he admitted, unwilling to let his angel go.

"I hope you don't just love me for my body, Erik," she told him in mock sternness. "I have a mind too, you know."

"Oh, I am very much aware of that, and I value it highly," he said, his tone still deep and husky.

"Good, because I have a scathingly brilliant idea…but I need your help with it," she insisted.

"Do you?" Erik's eyebrows rose in curiosity. "And would this idea involve you and me in bed by chance?"

"No, it involves Amir and Antoinette…at a restaurant," she informed him with a devious grin.

"Amir and Antoinette?" Erik balked, pulling back at her words. "What do they have to do with us?"

"Nothing, but I think it's time that we get the two of them together," Christine continued. "And Meg agrees with me."

"Meg is involved as well?" he said with a moan. "Why do I get the impression that I am not going to like where this is going?"

"If you help me with this, I promise to make it worth your while," she told him seductively, running her hands up and down the front of his fine linen shirt.

"Blackmail, Christine?" Erik asked, doing his best to sound scandalized. "I am shocked."

"Are you…really?" she said with a roll of her eyes. "I would think you would be rather familiar with the concept. It is how you got me to marry you, wasn't it?"

"You do have a point there," Erik smiled, reaching down and scooping her up in his arms. "However, might I suggest we start with the incentive now, and move on to the favor later?"

"All right, but I'll hold you to your promise," she giggled, loving how spontaneous her husband was becoming. Christine then pointed towards the stairs, and said in a humorous tone, "To the bedroom, my good man, and don't spare the horses!"

.

.

The next morning, as they ate breakfast, Christine at last went over her plan with Erik, the two of them having been far too busy the previous night for talking.

"Amir likes Japanese food, and remember how excited he was that first prize for the costume contest was dinner at Sakura Sai?" she asked Erik.

"Yes, I recall," he nodded, continuing to eat his toast as he listened.

"So, what if you make a reservation for dinner there, paying ahead of course, and tell Amir that you are taking me out to dinner there," she suggested.

"And how will that get Amir and Antoinette together?" he questioned, not seeing how this would work.

"You will then tell Amir that we are running late, and ask him to go hold the table for us," she explained. "Meanwhile, I will invite Antoinette out to dinner with me and Meg, but when she shows up, she'll find Amir waiting instead, sitting there at a romantic candlelit table for two. More than likely they'll catch on that it's a set up, but with as much as Amir loves the food there, he won't pass up a free meal, and they'll both stay!"

"So, you expect me to not only deceive Amir…but also pay for their dinner as well?" Erik asked skeptically, sounding none too pleased by this. "Do you know how much a meal at that restaurant costs?"

"I've heard it's a bit pricy," she admitted, waving off his objections. "But don't you think the happiness of our two friends is worth it?"

"Perhaps Antoinette's," Erik muttered, taking a sip of his coffee.

"I swear, the way you and Amir bicker and fight it's like you two are related," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest in frustration. "You promised to help me with this, and you already got your reward, so no backing out now!"

"Yes, my love," Erik told her with a longsuffering sigh. "Whatever you wish."

"Good. Now…I'll talk to Meg and she'll let me know what night works best for her mother. Then you can call and set up a reservation," Christine said with a wide grin.

"What if they are all booked up?" Erik asked. "Sometimes you have to make reservations months in advance in order to get in."

"Erik…are you trying to weasel out of this?" she asked in a warning tone.

"I do not weasel!" Erik said, sounding rather offended. "And I am a man of my word. Or was that not clear by the fact that I stayed true to my offer of giving you time to acclimate yourself to our marriage before we consummated? That took a great deal of restraint on my part, I will have you know."

"Yes, you are a true gentleman, and I thank you for your gallant consideration" she told him, reaching out and patting his hand in gratitude. She then leaned in, batting her eyes and sticking out her lips in an adorable pout. "But please, Erik, won't you do this…for me?"

Upon seeing her pleading look, Erik was done for. Shutting his eyes, he gave a low moan.

"What power do you hold over me, woman?" he asked, rather breathlessly. "You know when you do that I am incapable of saying no."

"I know," she giggled, standing up as she walked around and climbed into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed him on the lips. "That's why I do it."

.

.

Meg had been equally excited about the idea, and promised to check with her mother that night and see when they could put their plan into action. Both women were giddy as schoolgirls, anxious to play matchmaker to the two star-crossed lovers. Meg had watched her mother sacrifice her own happiness most of her life, in order to see that her daughter had all she needed…so now it was her turn to give something back.

Erik did all he could not to give anything away as he worked with Antoinette, or spoke with Amir. He knew that Christine and Meg would never forgive him if he messed up their carefully laid plans, and while he couldn't care less what the young Miss Giry thought, he was not about to disappoint his wife!

Still, when he was at last able to leave work, thus avoiding the risk of letting something slip, he breathed a sigh of relief. Erik really hoped this diabolical scheme would take place soon, for he was not sure how much longer he could continue on as if he were not hiding something. Yet, when he thought about it, he had been hiding things from people all his life…so what was one more secret?

.

.

"Friday!" Christine almost shouted as she got off the phone with Meg. "She says Antoinette has agreed to go to dinner with us on Friday!"

"And yet she will not be going with you and Meg…but Amir," Erik reasoned, looking up from his desk in the entertainment room where he had been working that evening.

"Exactly," Christine grinned. "Now…all we need is for you to make the reservation." She reached out and handed Erik a piece of paper with the phone number for the restaurant scrawled across it.

"Again, that might not be as simple as you imagine," he reminded her. "Sakura Sai does tend to book up quickly."

"Are you saying that a man of your wealth and power can't manage to get one measly reservation at a moment's notice?" she asked, her eyes becoming somewhat downcast at the idea. "Oh, well, I guess it won't work then, I mean if you don't think you can do it…that's alright, I understand. It was a good idea while it lasted." She then gave a helpless shrug and turned to leave the room, only to be halted by Erik's hand on her arm.

"Now, Christine," Erik said with a long sigh. "I never said it could not be done. I was just warning you that there was a slim chance of failure. However, since you seem so set on this, I will see what I can do. Will that please you?"

"Oh, yes!" she smiled, leaning her elbows on his desk as she propped her chin on her fists, watching as he picked up his phone and dialed.

"Good evening," Erik began smoothly when the line picked up. "I need to make a reservation for two." He paused a moment, listening to what the person was saying. "No, that will not do. I am unable to wait three weeks, I require a reservation for _this_ Friday night." Another pause. "I realize that you are a very popular restaurant, and it is your busiest night, however, that does not diminish the fact that I am in need of a reservation for Friday." Erik's eyes narrowed slightly, though his tone did not change. "I see…may I please speak to your manager? Tell him that Erik Thorn wishes to speak with him immediately. Yes… _Erik Thorn_." Once more there was a moment of silence, and then his expression brightened. "Yes, Friday at seven would be fine."

"Ask them for a table by the window!" Christine whispered excitedly.

"And might I inquire if you could please make that a table by the window?" he added, not quite sure why that mattered, but anything to please Christine. "Excellent, thank you very much." Erik then hung up the phone with a satisfied smirk, he really did love intimidating people. "All is arranged, my dear."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she squealed, rushing around his desk as she wrapped her arms around him from behind, kissing the side of his neck. "You're the best husband ever!"

"Am I now?" he hummed thoughtfully. "It truly does take so little to please you at times."

"Hey! Are you saying I'm easy?" she asked, nipping at his ear playfully.

"You… _easy_?" Erik barked out a laugh. "Hardly! I have never had to work so hard in my life to win a woman over. You were not swayed by my money, my power, or my... _strongly worded suggestions_."

"Ah, but your love is what I couldn't resist," she reminded him. "If only you had played that hand in the beginning, then perhaps you wouldn't have had to wait so long."

"I believe you were more than worth the wait," he assured her, turning in his chair so that he could look up into her eyes. "And, as they say, the chase _is_ half the fun."

"Oh? Do you like to play chase?" she giggled.

"Perhaps _this_ Big Bad Wolf needs to show Little Red Riding Hood exactly what it means to be stalked like prey," he said with a slight growl to his voice, slowly rising to his feet.

"What?" Christine asked, taking a cautious step backwards. "You…you're not serious… _are you_?" She suddenly felt her heart begin to race, and a shiver of excitement jolt through her.

"Oh, but I am," he replied, a hint of danger in his tone. "I will, however, be generous and give you a ten second head start. But rest assured, I _will_ catch you, my dear…and devour you whole." When he saw that she was still unsure if he was joking, he gave her a pointed look. "You are wasting time, Christine. You have only eight seconds left. You best get going."

With a squeak of fright, she instantly took off, racing out of the room and up the stairs, desperate to find a place to hide. She had always loved hide and go seek when she was a child, the thrill of the chase as well as the anticipation of being found. However, she hadn't played the game in a very long time, and suddenly she was a jangle of nerves, her eyes searching left and right for a place to conceal herself. When she heard the door to the entertainment room close, and the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, Christine really started to panic. It was an odd feeling, being both afraid and excited at the same time, knowing that she would love what came next should he find her, but still waiting to elude him at all costs…it was a matter of pride!

Scurrying into the closest guest room, Christine shut the door softly and headed for the closet. It was hardly the most original place she could have chosen, but it would do in a pinch. Thankfully, there were several cardboard boxes stacked inside, apparently left over from the move, and she was able to hide behind them quite easily. And so, there she crouched, trying to calm her breathing for fear she give herself away, listening as she waited to be discovered.

"Chriiiiiistine?" Erik called in a singsong voice, one that sent a new wave of shivers down her spine, causing her to clamp her hands over her mouth as she stifled excited giggles. "Where are you, my little angel?"

She could hear Erik walking down the hallway, not even attempting to keep his steps quiet. Christine grinned wildly as she heard him open another one of the guest room doors, thinking that she had managed to throw him off her scent. Yet when that door shut and hers opened, she knew she would soon be caught. Oh, the suspense was maddening.

.

.

Erik walked around the room, humming confidently to himself as he searched. He had started this little game as a lark, but all too quickly he had discovered the true appeal. Erik was the kind of man who enjoyed the hunt and conquest, his past and present forms of employment attesting to that. And now, as he searched the house for his errant little wife, he could feel that same thrill take over once more. All his senses were heightened, his ears keenly attuned to the slightest sound, he could almost feel that his quarry was near. He tilted his head and sniffed the air, catching the faint odor of Christine's perfume lingering in the room. Erik's eyes fell upon the closet… _oh, she was making this far too easy_ , he thought with a wolfish grin. Still, he was not quite ready to see the game end, so walking over, he opened the door, gave a cursory glance inside and then shut it once again. Imagining her relief at his failure to spot her, Erik headed for the door, making a loud show of exiting, as if he were continuing his search. And then he waited.

.

.

Inside the closet, Christine couldn't help but giggle like a schoolgirl at her success. She was better at this than she thought! Still, it was getting a bit stuffy inside the closet, and since he had already searched this room, he was unlikely to do so again. So, standing up, she pushed the boxes aside and peeked out, seeing no signs of Erik. Stepping out into the room, Christine turned to shut the door, only to be grabbed around the waist and lifted off the floor by a pair of strong arms.

"Got you!" Erik cried in triumph, causing his wife to let out a startled scream. She struggled briefly, her fight or flight reaction quite expected, yet somehow it only added to the fun.

"You tricked me! You made it seem like you left," she protested. "I heard you leave!"

"They do not call me the Phantom for nothing," Erik laughed.

"Who calls you that?" Christine asked, looking at him questioningly.

"No one anymore," he responded, giving her that look that told her it was best to drop the subject.

"Still…what you did was not fair!" she objected.

"How was that not fair?" Erik questioned, gently setting her back down on her feet. "You hid, I found you…thus I win. Is that not the rules of the game?"

"Rules? We don't need no stinking rules!" she stated, altering the famous line from The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. "We make them up as we go along! And I say that you pretending to leave the room, only pounce on me in surprise, is cheating."

"And I say you are simply being a sore loser," Erik contested. "I told you that I would find you, did I not? Thus, I win."

"Uuuugggg," Christine groaned in utter defeat, becoming a limp noodle in his arms. "Fine…have it your way!"

"And what _do_ I win, my little flower?" Erik asked, all but preening over his success.

"Anything you want," she laughed.

"Oh…really?" he questioned, seriously considering his options. "Well, I have something in mind…yet I am not quite certain you will easily agree to it."

"Why not?" Christine asked, before her eyes narrowed slightly. "Is it something kinky?"

"Perhaps a little, and it might take a good couple of hours to complete, not to mention a great deal of stamina," he continued, looking thoughtful.

"Well, if you have any chance of me saying yes, you better tell me what it is quick, mister," she warned him, a worried expression on her face. "Because I'm starting to imagine all sorts of strange things here!"

"What I would love for us to do, Christine," he began, leaning in closer to whisper in her ear. "Is to go downstairs…and play a game of chess."

"What…chess?" she laughed, all her concern melting away. "And how is _that_ kinky?"

"Oh, did I forget to mention it will be strip-chess?" he chuckled. "For every piece you lose, you must take off an article of clothing."

"Well then, I hope you thought ahead and put on an extra pair of socks, because I foresee that _you_ will soon be very chilly," she boasted.

"We shall see, my darling…we shall see," Erik muttered, knowing that if it took all night, and all his skill, he was going to win _this_ game!

.

.

However, by midnight, a large number of pieces still remained on the board, both black and white, forcing the two half-dressed players to call it a stalemate. Thus, mentally exhausted, they climbed into bed and curled up in each other's arms, falling instantly asleep with happy smiles on their faces.

* * *

 **Well, it looks like Erik is an expert at hide and go seek...but he still can't beat the pants off of Christine at chess. Ha ha, did you see what I did there? I made a pun!**

 **Apparently Meg and Christine have everything all set to go for the big date. Antoinette and Amir won't know what hit them.**

 **And did you see how sly Christine was to get Erik to make those reservations for her? Not that Erik minded too much. He likes throwing his weight around.**

 **Meg and Christine had a nice girls night...and Amir even got to join them!**

 **The date will be on Monday...along with something else you've all been itching to find out about. hee hee.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **PG4044:** Glad you liked it. Erik has a keeper? Do you mean Christine...or Raoul? Christine since she's his wife, and Raoul, since he is apparently spying on him. ha ha. But yes, Christine is a tough act to follow. Thanks.

 **Guest:** Happy you approve. And no, I don't think anyone wants to be around when Christine learns about Erik's trick with Raoul and why he is hanging out with those baddies. Thanks.

 **Cayla:** Yes, they were doing so well...too bad Erik has to go and pull a stunt like this. It could come back to bite him in the tushie. I'm glad you can see Raoul's side in all this. He just wants to protect his friend...and take down any bad guys in the process...so for him, it's a win/win. Don't worry about Gerald, he has lifetime job security, mostly since Amir won't ever let Erik borrow his car. ha ha. Seeing his 'lair' had to happen sooner or later, ha ha. And hmmm, about that dust...well, I think Erik uses some really fancy filtration system in the air ducts, that filters out any dust or impurities. So...yah, no dust. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Kristin:** Yep, Erik is not known for thinking things through, and running headlong into trouble where Christine is concerned. And they ARE happy...for now, let's see how long they stay that way. And don't worry, Raoul loves Meg and she knows it, he is just looking out for his friend. That's all. Thanks.

 **GuestWraithSnake:** Is your device using auto correct and changing my name to PF33, or is that just your new name for me? ha ha. Oh? An Elfquest fan, are you? Erik has his arms up his sleeves...and a Punjab lasso. ha ha. De'Rossi and Morte are bad news, that's for sure. I had to stick in the tunnels...I just HAD to! Erik has hamsters in his brain? How odd. I figured I needed a bit more fluff since I kept you all waiting for it for the past 50 chapters. ha ha. Thanks.


	54. Chapter 54

.

 **Date night is here...and so is something else you've all been waiting for...**

 **.**

 **Chapter 54**

 **~X~**

* * *

The next several days passed quickly, with Christine and Meg either plotting on the phone or meeting for lunch to discuss their Friday night's plans. It was decided that they needed a reason why Antoinette would have to meet them at the restaurant, and not wish to ride there _with_ Meg. Thus, Christine convinced Erik to make sure his legal counsel had to come directly from work. When he asked how he was supposed to manage that, she had given him a kiss on the lips, a bright smile, and assured him that he would think of something.

On Thursday afternoon, when Christine and Meg were off having lunch together, Erik decided that he had not been by to see Charles in a while, and suddenly felt the need to visit with the man. So much had changed between him and Christine recently, and he felt the need to speak with his father-in-law. He had heard that Charles was now able to communicate by means of his yes and no lights, but he truly hoped his ability to speak…or yell…was still a ways off. Erik was not quite sure he was ready for the scolding he would undoubtedly get if so. He only prayed that these little visits were helping, and not hurting his cause.

When he arrived, he found Susan sitting beside her patient, helping him spell out words with his alphabet sheet, laughing at whatever it was he was 'saying'.

"Am I interrupting anything?" he asked, rapping softly on the open door before stepping inside.

"Oh, no, not at all," Susan smiled. "Please, come in. We were just joking around. Can I get you anything…coffee…tea?"

"No, thank you, I am quite fine," Erik insisted.

"Then I will leave you two alone and find something else to occupy the next half an hour," she told him, waving at Charles as she headed out.

"Good afternoon, Sir," Erik began, always a bit uncomfortable when beginning a conversation with the man. "Christine is otherwise occupied with Miss Meg,so I thought perhaps I would spend my lunch hour visiting with you. If that is acceptable?" Erik waited for Charles to respond, using his red or green light…but nothing happened. He simply stared at him, his expression blank as usual. "Well…since you did not say no, I will take that as a yes." He sat down and looked around the room, doing his best to find something to talk about. "Did you know that Christine has taken up the task of playing matchmaker? She is convinced that my assistant, Amir, is rather infatuated with my legal counsel, Antoinette. I personally do not see it, but then again, I am not exactly an expert when it comes to love and romance."

Suddenly, Charles red light blinked on, remaining quite steady for several seconds. _Buzzzzzzz!_

"Ah, I see you agree with me," Erik nodded, hardly surprised by his opinion. "I admit, I was not overly knowledgeable about the proper way to woo a lady such as your daughter, but I assure you, I showed her nothing but the highest respect through it all." Here he paused, knowing that his next words would open himself up to a great deal of unwanted scrutiny. "Though, I am certain that you have quite a few questions for me regarding the subject."

The green light came on, _ding, ding,_ flickering several times, telling Erik that Charles did indeed have many questions.

"Then allow me to alleviate at least some of your concerns," he offered, picking up the tablet with the alphabet spelled out on it. Christine had told him she discovered the quickest way to help him spell out words, by first pointing at the three lines of letters, allowing him to say which row the one he wanted was in. Then Erik let his finger skim over the eight to nine letters in the line until he indicated which one. It took a few moments to get the hang of it, but in no time at all, Charles was spelling out his questions quite efficiently.

"WHY HER?" was his first question.

"I was under the impression I already answered that a while back," Erik told him, though he had no hesitation in responding again. "I saw something in Christine that I had never found in a woman before. A spark of understanding …of compassion. From the moment our eyes met, I knew she was the only one I could ever love, and I only prayed that she would be able to love me in return. I am happy to say that just recently Christine has professed to return my affections. Saying those three magical words that I will cherish until the end of my days."

"DID YOU FORCE HER TO MARRY YOU?"

"No, I did not _force_ her. I would never do such a thing to Christine…or anyone," Erik stated firmly. "I will, however, admit to placing a very powerful incentive before her. The nature of which I am certain you have already guessed, and it was obviously something she was powerless to turn down." Erik could tell that Charles was itching to ask more, but he ignored this and continued speaking. "I do not know how much Christine has told you of me, of our marriage…of the contract. But I wish to go on record as saying that I did it all out of love. We may have not had the best of starts, but over the past month and a half, we have grown close…respecting and appreciating one another for our strengths and weaknesses. Granted, I seem to have far more of the latter than she, but as you know, Christine is a very forgiving woman. She tells me that _you_ taught her to be open, willing to see other's points of view, to not judge, and best of all…to be compassionate. You raised a fine daughter, Mr. Daaé, and for that I will forever be in your debt."

The green light flashed, _ding, ding,_ telling Erik that Charles at least agreed with his last statement. He then continued allowing him to ask more questions.

"WHY THE MASK?"

"Ahhh, yes, it always comes down to that," Erik said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair as he prepared to tell his story. He spoke of the orphanage, the first place he recalled, of how he became aware that he was different from all the other children, that only he had a face like that of a nightmare. Next he told him about running away and doing whatever it took to survive, even if some of those things were not exactly legal or morally right. Erik did his best to tell him everything, leaving out very little, while still retaining a shred of his dignity. When he got to the present, explaining what his current employment was, Charles halted him by flashing his red light. Understanding that he wished to ask another question, Erik picked up the tablet once more.

"IS CHRISTINE IN DANGER?"

Erik was silent for a good long while, contemplating how to answer this. He had so many secrets, ones he could not, or would not, tell anyone…and yet, he knew that this man deserved to know some of it.

"She could be," he admitted at last. He then got up and walked to the door, shutting it quietly and turning the lock, making sure they would not be interrupted. "Yet, before you condemn me for my answer, please hear me out. You see, the first time I met Christine, I was in the company of some rather disreputable men…potential business partners, if you will, and it just so happened to take place at the restaurant where Christine worked."

Erik continued on, telling the silent man everything - every sordid and sinister detail of his past and what he was currently involved in. Yet he also told Charles of all the measures he had taken to see that Christine was kept safe, protected, and oblivious to everything. Erik assured him that he would never expect anything of her that she did not wish to do, or was not willing to give freely. He spoke of her being his angel, the one person in all the world who could manage to look upon his face and not run screaming into the night.

"I wish I was a better man for Christine, for she deserves only the best. I would give her everything I own, for she has already freely offered me the only thing I have ever truly desired… _love_. For that fact alone, I would die for your daughter, Mr. Daaé. And if you do not believe that her affections mean that much to me…" Erik said, reaching up and slowly removing the mask from his face. "Then allow _this_ to convince you of that fact."

Erik watched Charles' eyes widen at the sight of him, his unmasked face no more than a couple feet from his own. His eyes moved slowly up and down, scanning the scarred and damaged flesh that could barely be considered a face, and suddenly, to Erik's surprise, a lone tear slid down the older man's cheek.

"You understand then?" Erik asked, lifting his hand to replace the mask, not wishing to horrify the poor man any longer.

The quiet dinging sound and the green light gave his answer, causing Erik to nod.

"I did not show you my face to garner sympathy, but instead to impress upon you the extent of my utter devotion to your daughter," he said. "To make you understand the lengths to which I would go to protect and care for her to the end of my days." Erik then lifted his eyes to gaze upon his father-in-law, his expression one of hope. "And…if it is not too much to ask, I would greatly appreciate it if you did not repeat what we discussed today with Christine. I promise that I will tell her everything as soon as possible…but please, I beg of you not to speak of it just yet. Will you do this for me?"

Again, Erik waited on pins and needles for Charles' reply. It came a few moments later…and he let out a sigh of relief that the light he chose to blink was green. _Ding, ding._

"Thank you, sir," Erik told him. "It means a lot to me…and I promise, I will never let anything happen to Christine. She will never be out of my protection." Feeling spent, he stood up and walked over to the door, unlocking it once more. Yet before he opened it and left, he turned back to Charles one last time. "Christine is very fortunate to have a father such as you in her life. Very fortunate indeed." And then he was gone.

.

.

When Friday at last rolled around, Erik had been given his orders, requiring him to not only make up some reason that Antoinette would have to stay late, but also invent a reason why Amir would need to go hold the table for them. He had gone over quite a few scenarios in his mind, making up intricate stories and fabrications, yet in the end, Erik decided to go with his tried and true method for getting things done. He simply ordered them to do it, without bothering to give any explanation as to why.

Thus, Antoinette was forced to remain behind and complete a stack of paperwork Erik had dropped on her desk. While Amir was texted the instructions to go to Sakura Sai, occupy their reserved table, and wait until they arrived…end of conversation. His two assignments completed, Erik left work for the day, feeling rather pleased with himself.

.

.

Meg showed up at the house by cab about half an hour later, the two girls twittering and giggling over their accomplishments.

"You do realize it was _I_ who orchestrated everything," Erik informed them, sounding a bit put out over the fact. "The reservation, keeping Mrs. Giry late at work, and even forcing Amir to go sit alone at a restaurant without imagining he will get to eat anything. Oh, and then I also pre-paid for a dinner I will not be partaking of."

"And we appreciate everything you did, my love," Christine assured him, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss his exposed cheek. "You are an amazing husband."

"And, you're pretty good at plotting too, Mr. Thorn!" Meg told him with a wide smile.

"I…thank you, Miss Giry," Erik replied, a bit unsure if it was truly meant as a compliment or not.

"So, when should we leave?" Christine asked, turning back to Meg.

"I would say, give them half an hour more to both arrive and get settled, and then…it's show time!" Meg laughed.

"Show time?" Erik questioned. He had been under the assumption that everything was in place, that nothing more was required. Either the Persian and his legal counsel would pursue a relationship…or they would not. What else was there to do? "What do you mean?"

"That we're going to go spy on them, of course," Christine informed him, shaking her head as if it was obvious. "Why else did you think I asked you to get a table by the window?"

"Ambiance?" Erik answered, still bewildered.

"That too," Meg nodded. "But mostly so we could sit in the lot across the street and watch them. I need to make sure that friend of yours keeps any wandering hands to himself," she stated firmly.

"Amir is not a friend. He is my business associate…nothing more," Erik corrected.

"Yes, dear," Christine grinned, not believing him for a moment. "Strictly business."

"Exactly," Erik huffed, turning and heading for the sun room, wishing to relax a bit…before he was pulled back into this insane operation.

.

.

When Christine and Meg announced that it was time, Erik put down the paper he had been reading and rose to his feet, heading for the door right behind them. At the sound of his footsteps, they both turned, eyeing him curiously.

"You're coming too?" Christine asked, cocking her head to the side. "I thought you felt this was foolish girl stuff."

"I do…and it is," Erik nodded. "Yet what kind of husband, or man for that matter, would I be to allow two ladies to venture out after dark in New York alone? I will be coming with you, and before you ask…I am driving."

"But none of _your_ cars have a back seat," Christine argued. "Where will Meg sit?"

Erik had no answer for this, since he obviously had not considered it.

"Then we shall take your vehicle, Christine," he amended. "Yet, I am still driving."

"Fine," Christine said with a sigh, handing him the keys. "But be careful."

"Of the two of us…who is the one who did _not_ run into a tree?" he asked pointedly, pocketing the keys and heading for the garage door, which would lead them where Christine always parked.

 _"You hit a tree?"_ Meg whispered to Christine as they followed behind Erik. "Wow…that takes talent."

"Surprisingly little, actually," Christine informed her with an embarrassed shrug.

Yet, when Meg spotted the three fancy cars parked side by side in the large garage, she squealed with delight.

"Are you sure we can't take one of these?" she begged, running her hand over the hood of the Porsche. "I don't mind sharing half a seat with Christine, if it means getting to ride in _this_ baby."

"I do not believe that is legal, Miss Giry," Erik said with a shake of his head. "Nor is it safe." He took out his own keys and popped the trunk of the Jaguar, removing a black duffel bag, before shutting it again.

"Or I could fold myself up into the trunk," Meg continued to suggest. "That one seemed quite roomy!"

"No!" was Erik's final say on the matter. "Now, get in Christine's Volvo and let us be on our way."

.

.

Meanwhile, Amir sat at the small intimate table at Sakura Sai, drumming his fingers on the table in irritation. He was glad he had been somewhat properly dressed for fine dining when Erik had texted, having to practically drop everything and race down here to make it in time. Yet as he smelled the delicious orders wafting from the kitchen, all he could think about was what an evil sadist Erik was, and how this was beyond cruel. Amir had always wanted to eat here, having mentioned it more than once around his rather oblivious employer…for he refused to consider the masked man a _friend_ tonight. And what did Erik take away from all his hints and dropped suggestions? That _he_ should take Christine here instead! Erik would be receiving a good sized piece of his mind when they next spoke, that was for sure.

Amir had been sitting there for nearly half an hour, sipping at a glass of water and munching on the small appetizer of Geso they had kindly offered him while he waited, all the while plotting Erik's demise. When out of the corner of his eye he spotted a most lovely and welcoming sight. _Antoinette!_

Standing up, as any gentleman should when approached by a lady, he greeted her with a wide smile.

"Hello," he said, feeling rather tongue tied.

"Hello to you as well," she replied. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm holding the table for Erik and Christine," he told her, feeling a bit foolish at the confession. "He texted me that they were running late and that I should come down here and sit like some errand boy until they arrive. How about you?"

"I was told to meet Meg and Christine here," she stated, looking around the room. "When I asked the hostess for the Thorn table…they sent me here. Do you think there has been some kind of mistake?"

"I don't know," he said with a shrug. "Let me text Erik and find out." Amir then gestured for Antoinette to have a seat, the two of them feeling rather foolish standing there while others continued to dine around them. He had just taken out his phone when a waiter arrived, handing Amir a small folded piece of paper. "What's this?"

"I was instructed to give it to you," was all the man said, before he walked away.

"What does it say?" Antoinette questioned, leaning over just a bit so she might get a look at the mysterious note.

Opening it, Amir noticed it was in Christine's handwriting, a sly smile spreading over his face as he read it out loud.

 _"Congratulations, Amir. For your faithful service as my trusted bodyguard, you have won an all-expense paid dinner for two at Sakura Sai. Erik has already left his credit card number with the hostess, so order anything you wish…the sky's the limit. As for a dining partner, Meg and I have been unexpectedly detained and will not be able to meet Antoinette as we had originally planned. Perhaps you might be so kind as to invite her to dine with you. Have a lovely evening!"_

"Hmmm, I smell a set up," Antoinette grumbled, thinking of the scolding she was going to give those girls when she got a hold of them.

"Perhaps…but you know what else I smell?" Amir asked, folding up the paper and slipping it into his pocket. "Our dinner! Would you care to join me as we stuff ourselves on Erik's dime?"

"Well…he _did_ make me work late tonight, so I don't mind if I do," she grinned, reaching out and taking her napkin and laying it in her lap. "What do you recommend?"

.

.

Erik pulled Christine's SUV into a parking spot across the street, facing the front window of Sakura Sai, rolling his eyes as Christine and Meg both let out a squeal.

"There they are!" Christine pointed, having spotted them almost immediately. "And look…they're eating together!"

"He better not be taking advantage of my generosity," Erik growled. He could almost hear the sound of the cash register adding up the bill with every bite Amir took. He was forced to shut his eyes and moan when the waiter arrived with what looked to be an expensive bottle of wine.

"Erik, hush," Christine chided. "This is for the sake of love. Loosen up."

"Yah, Mr. Thorn, get in the mood of l'amour," Meg encouraged, leaning forward between the seats so she could get a better view of her mother and her possible new beau.

 _I doubt very seriously you would wish to see me in the mood for l'amour, Miss Giry,_ Erik thought to himself, suddenly imagining he and Christine engaging in scandalous acts in the very back seat where Meg was sitting. It was probably better for the little ballerina to continue watching the show unfolding across the street.

"What do you think they are saying to each other?" Christine asked, squinting a bit as she stared at the dining couple.

"I don't know," Meg moaned. "Why didn't we think to bring binoculars?"

"Do you even _own_ any binoculars?" Christine asked, turning a bit in her seat to stare at her friend.

"No…but if I ever had need of a pair, now would be it," she huffed.

"Amateurs," Erik said with a roll of his eyes, opening the car door and slipping out, shutting it behind him.

"Where's he going?" Meg asked.

"How would I know? He gave me just as much information as you got," Christine said with a shrug.

"Well, if he's leaving, I'm taking his seat," Meg announced, kicking off her shoes and climbing into the front, plopping herself down in the driver's chair. "Ooooh, comfy."

"Just be careful with my new interior!" Christine hissed, wiping at the fine leather where Meg had stepped. "I don't want my new baby getting scuffed up."

"Oops, sorry," she said with a cringe.

"No harm done," Christine smiled, turning her attention back to the restaurant window. "Does it look like they are having fun?"

"Well…my mother's smiling, so that's a good sign," Meg answered.

Just then the driver's door opened, and Erik stood there, holding the black duffel and glaring at Meg in exasperation.

"I couldn't see from the back seat," she told him in explanation, giving him a little grin.

Erik sighed and shut the door, before climbing gracefully into the back, not looking at all pleased by this position swap.

"Where did you go?" Christine asked, turning around to stare at her less than happy husband.

"To retrieve these," he answered, reaching into the bag and pulling out two sets of high quality, military grade binoculars. "It is obvious that neither one of you has ever been on a stakeout or spied on anyone before."

"No…but with _these_ babies, I might be doing it more often!" Meg giggled, putting them to her eyes and adjusting the focus. "Holy Hanna! It's like I'm sitting at the table with them! I can literally see everything! I can even count Amir's nose hairs!"

"Please do not," Erik all but begged.

"They seem to be enjoying each other's company," Christine commented, looking through her pair as well.

"Hmmm, let me see if I can read their lips," the blond said, concentrating very hard. "I think my mother just told Amir that she likes his tie…or she could have said she wanted him to die. Now, I believe he just said something about owning a monkey? Or a donkey?" Meg lowered the glasses and looked at Christine curiously. "Does Amir have any strange pets?"

"Not that I'm aware of," she laughed.

"Oh, if only we could hear what they're saying!" Meg huffed.

"More than likely it is something about how they wish you two would give them a bit of privacy," Erik responded, rummaging in his duffel bag once more. "Yet, if you _must_ know for sure…try this." He then handed a strange looking device to Christine.

"It looks like a gun with a small satellite dish on it…what is it?" she asked, turning it around several times.

"It is a parabolic microphone with a speaker," he explained, sounding as if he were describing how to tie a shoe to a four-year-old. "You use it to listen in on whatever you are pointing it at."

"Why in the world would you ever _need_ stuff like this?" Meg questioned. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Give it here…I wanna try it out!"

Within minutes, the two women got it working, having to practice a bit before they managed to zero in on their intended targets, and not the waiters or the other patrons. When Antoinette's voice came through on the speaker, Meg began to bounce up and down in her seat, excited beyond words.

"Shhhh! Sit still and listen," Christine chided, turning up the sound.

.

.

"Why do you think Meg and Christine went to all the trouble of getting us together tonight?" Antoinette asked, sipping at her glass of wine, doing her best not to make eye contact as she spoke.

"The same reason I bet Christine had me dress as a ninja for the ball…to pair me up with you," he told her, not sounding at all upset by the idea.

"But why?" she pressed, needing to know exactly what Amir was thinking.

"Antoinette…isn't it obvious?" he questioned, his hand reaching across the table as his fingers rested lightly on her hand. "I don't know how _you_ feel, and I would never presume to imagine that I am in any way worthy of a woman as fine as you…but I believe Christine has figured out that I like you…very much."

"You…you do?" she sputtered, having to clear her throat a few times as she choked on her wine. "You _like_ me?"

"I have for a very long time, Antoinette," he confessed. "Yet, after what you'd been through, I didn't think that a guy like me stood a chance."

"A guy like you?" Now she was a bit confused. "You mean Persian?"

"No…well, maybe that too," he mused. "But I meant shady. When we first met, I can't say I was exactly in the most reputable type of business. And I figured you already been through enough of that to last a lifetime. So…I backed off. Yet I never stopped thinking about you, which made things both better, and worse, when you began working for Phantom Industries. Seeing you constantly has been torture, knowing that I needed to stay away, and allow you to find a better life than I could have offered you."

"What are you talking about?" she gasped. "You have to be one of the most honorable men I know! Not once have I seen you as anything but a gentleman…and never have you treated me as anything but a lady."

"Because that is what you are, through and through," he insisted. "A true lady."

"A lady with a past," Antoinette added, looking down at her now empty plate in embarrassment. "And apparently I was not very good at choosing the right kind of man in my youth."

"Anyone can be fooled, and often love will blind us to someone's faults," Amir told her sympathetically. "You can't blame yourself for _his_ failures. It was his choice to trade a wonderful wife and daughter for the lure of money…not yours. You did nothing wrong, and should feel no shame." His light touch suddenly turned to a warm and comforting squeeze, his larger hand enveloping her own. "And if I were ever afforded the same privileges as he…you can rest assured that I would never take you for granted, Antoinette. _Never."_

 _._

 _._

Back in the car across the street, Christine felt a tear slide down her cheek at Amir's beautiful words, suddenly feeling like an intruder on their intimate moment.

"Maybe we should turn this off and let them have some privacy," she suggested. "I'm not feeling so good about this anymore."

"What? No way! I want to hear the rest of this!" Meg insisted, placing the binoculars to her face again. "This is better than most soap operas!"

"It's also your mother you are spying on," Christine reminded her. "I'm sure you wouldn't want her to do the same with you and Raoul."

"Shhhh, I can't hear what they're saying," she hissed, obviously not listening to a word Christine was saying. "Hey…look, I think Amir is getting a phone call…no, wait, must be a text. I wonder who it's from?"

The speaker went silent for a moment as Amir stared down at his phone, reading the text, and then pocketing the device once again.

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"Antoinette…would you care to take a walk with me through the park?" he asked, standing up as he placed his napkin in his plate. "I would very much like to continue our conversation…elsewhere."

"Oh…um…all right," she replied, sounding a bit perplexed by his sudden suggestion. "That sounds lovely." Amir then reached for her wrap that was laying across the other chair, holding it up as he slipped it over her shoulders. "Should we leave a tip or anything?" Antoinette asked.

"Erik's note said the bill was being covered, and they add the gratuity into the price of the meal," he explained. "So, we can leave whenever we wish, and I say that is now. Shall we?" Amir held out his arm invitingly.

"Yes, we shall," she laughed, tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow, as they left the restaurant.

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"DRAT!" Meg huffed, looking rather perturbed that their fun had been spoiled. "Why'd they have to go and leave? Things were just getting interesting."

Christine turned her head, looking at Erik in the backseat. She stifled a laugh as she saw him slip his phone back in his pocket, a devious grin on his lips.

"Yes…I do wonder what could have prompted that," she said, not letting on. "Well, I suppose we should head home then. We can drop you off on our way, Meg, so you don't have to catch a cab. You might have some explaining to do when your mother gets home though, since she obviously knows we kind of set her up tonight."

"Oh, I doubt she'll be too upset, as long as things continue on as they were over dinner," Meg smiled. "Who knows…given enough time, I just might have myself a new daddy!"

A rather ungentlemanly snort from the backseat caused both ladies to turn and look at Erik questioningly.

"Forgive me," Erik said, not looking at all apologetic. "I…I…oh, never mind." He then exited the vehicle and opened the driver's door. "Please remove yourself from my seat, Miss Giry."

"Oh, but it's so comfortable up here," she whined, snuggling down into the plush leather.

"Do you possess a valid driver's license?" Erik inquired.

"Well…no," she admitted.

"Then you will be doing us no good in your current position," he reasoned, signaling for her to vacate the front seat.

"Your husband can sure be a grouch, Christine," Meg huffed, climbing over the seat again and retaking her place in the back.

"Yes, at times. But what he lacks in social skills, he more than makes up for in other areas," Christine giggled, watching as Erik's ears actually turned an adorable shade of red at her comment.

"Oooooh, do tell," Meg snickered.

"I would prefer if you did not," Erik grumbled, putting the car in drive and heading for Meg's apartment.

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Hours later, as Erik and Christine lay in bed, his lovely wife sleeping peacefully in his arms, there came the unmistakable sound of Amir's car coming up the driveway. A few minutes later, it was followed by the faint opening and closing of the sun room door, causing Erik to gently ease his wife out of his arms, leaving her blissfully unaware as he slipped into a house robe and left the room, heading downstairs. He found Amir in the kitchen, just setting out two mugs for coffee as the machine percolated away.

"So, how was your evening?" Erik questioned, assuming the Persian's presence at this late hour was a sign that he wished to talk.

"Unbelievable," Amir said with a pleased grin. "Though, I assume you guessed as much, seeing that you were at least privy to _some_ of our conversation. Thanks for the heads up on that, by the way."

"It was the least I could do," Erik nodded, sitting down at the kitchen table and leaning back in his chair. "And honestly, if I had to listen to any more of your pathetic attempt to woo Mrs. Giry, I might have soiled Christine's floor mats with my regurgitated dinner."

"Speaking of dinner," Amir continued, acting as if he hadn't heard a word of Erik's barb. "Thanks for paying for ours. I have to say, the food there is worth every penny…especially yours."

"I will have to take your word for it," Erik huffed, still a bit put out by that. "So, did you have a nice walk afterwards?"

"We did," he nodded, shutting off the coffee machine and pouring them each a steaming cup before coming to join Erik at the table. "We sat by the pond and had a nice long conversation about our possible future."

"I see…and what did you conclude?" Erik asked, sipping at the coffee.

"That we would indeed like to see where this will take us," Amir confessed. "I've been a fool to have waited this long to speak my mind to her. I should have done it years ago."

"I heartily agree," Erik nodded.

"You do?" Amir was shocked. "You believe we should have done this a long time ago?"

"Perhaps," he mused. "But what I meant was, I agree that you have been, and always will be, a fool where women are concerned." Erik couldn't help but smirk behind the rim of his cup as Amir's eyes narrowed in irritation.

"Wouldn't that be like the pot calling the kettle black?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, it's not like you have had such a great track record with the female sex yourself." And though he left it unsaid, it was more than obvious that Amir was speaking of his sister, Roshni.

"Touché," Erik said, wincing just a bit at the painful memory his comment had invoked. "So, should I expect to see you hanging around the office more, wishing to see your new girlfriend?"

"Antoinette is much more than my _girlfriend_ ," Amir told him, a happy wistful look coming to his face. "She is all woman, and if I may be so bold…my soulmate."

"Is she now?" Erik snickered. "Since when did you become so idealistic?"

"Are you saying that you do not think Christine is yours?" Amir challenged.

"That is different," he insisted, looking irked that his friend had cornered him on the subject. "Christine and I were made for each other, I see no other way of describing it."

"And I feel the same way about Antoinette," Amir answered firmly.

"I suppose you would have to, in order to risk going behind my back and choosing to excuse Mrs. Giry from paying the customary fee for the Phantom's services all those years ago," Erik pointed out, leaning forward, placing his arms on the table. " _A favor?_ And just how were we supposed to spend that?"

" _I'm_ the one who did all the work!" Amir protested, wondering how long it would be before Erik found out about his little deviation in policy.

"Using _my_ name and reputation," Erik reminded him. "Hence, I believe you owe me another hundred dollars."

"And you owe me the same for aiding Meg and Christine in spying on us," Amir countered. "For I know neither one of them would have access to binoculars and listening devices."

"Again…touché," Erik nodded. "Shall we call it even then?"

"Sounds fair," Amir agreed.

"So, tell me," Erik continued. "Is Roger Giry dead?"

"Oh, he might be…by now," Amir mused, sitting back in his seat and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "But not by my hand. Yes, I roughed him up a bit, took a great deal of pleasure in that, but I handed him over to the men he owed money to, figuring they could exact a fair amount of justice for his crimes. It's just a sad fact of life…if you play, you pay."

"I guessed as much," he nodded, knowing his friend's way of dealing with things pretty well by now. "I must say, I approve of your tactics."

"So, do I have your word that should Antoinette and I pursue this relationship, you will not interfere?" the Persian asked pointedly.

"You do…on the condition that your relationship does not interfere with business," Erik amended. "However, the first time I catch Antoinette drawing fluffy hearts with your initials inside during business hours, or find you daydreaming about her when you should be protecting Christine, _then_ we will be having words."

"Fair enough," Amir chuckled, obviously having a difficult time imagining Mrs. Giry doing something so girlish. "We'll be discreet."

"I thank you," Erik said, downing the last of his coffee and getting to his feet. "Yet, with that being said…I am pleased for you both." And before Amir could respond, he left the room, returning to his bed…and his wife.

* * *

 **And there you have it folks...the start of a beautiful relationship!**

 **Erik was such a grumpy Gus, but he did provide the high power binoculars and the listening device...and then foiled all Meg's fun by texting Amir. ha ha.**

 **And what did you think of Erik and Charles' talk? And him showing his father-in-law his face?**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Bleaky:** ha ha, well, strip poker just didn't sound dignified enough for Erik. ha ha. I hope you enjoyed the date. Thanks!

 **GuestWraithSnake:** I get a laugh out of what auto correct does to us from time to time. I kind of DID do something with elves...my story over in Hobbit land (Little Son of Durin) has elves in it...and dwarves, and wizards, and men, and orcs and lots of other interesting creatures. ha ha. Never had an idea for an Elfquest story though. And I have already considered a crossover of Phantom and Hobbit, but if Erik ever ended up in Middle Earth, he would overthrow Sauron in a New York minute and set himself up as the new dark lord. ha ha. He would also give Thorin a run for his money when it came to majestic grumpiness. Well, you know what they say about bad guys...if you lay down with dogs, you get up with fleas. Erik does love his tunnels. It was time that Meg and Christine had a girls night out. Who wouldn't like Amir, he is a wonderful guy...and he has the patience to put up with Erik...so he's a keeper. I find it funny that most are taking Christine's side on this and saying Erik cheated at hide and go seek. HE found her...thus, he won! Strip chess sounds like something Erik might initiate. ha ha. Sorry, but I just don't see Red Death making an appearance in this story. But you just feel free to imagine it all you want. ha ha. As for Charles...I think we made some headway in this chapter, right? Sometimes I make references to other stories, movies, etc, without even realizing I am doing it. And 'as you wish' is so universally known, that I can't help that one. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Cayla:** Well, apparently Erik CAN say no to her about some things...otherwise she would already know his secrets. But yes, it must be nice to have the money and power to get things done at the drop of a hat...or a name. Yep, Christine has the license and the wheels to go where she wants, but I wouldn't worry about Gerald...his job is secure. Amir is so secure with his masculinity that he can crash girls night and still be a stud. I think Amir has admired little Meg since she was a child, just barbecue she was Antoinette's daughter. Thanks!

 **Kristin:** Yes, there is NO love between Raoul and Christine. Fear not. But as for him not being able to drive a wedge between Erik and Christine...don't count on it. Did you like how the date went? I liked the game of chase too, I think Erik would be a lot of fun at the game, making it thrilling as well as pleasurable to be caught. ha ha. Thanks.


	55. Chapter 55

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 **Not sure why, but by Wednesday I always find myself a little behind in answering reviews. But please don't stop, I love them and I will get to them all very soon!**

 **And now, our story continues!  
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 **Chapter 55**

 **~X~**

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Christine had been beyond happy to hear that Amir and Antoinette had worked things out, confessing their interest in each other and deciding to pursue a relationship. Erik, however, was still a bit irked that he had been forced to pay for a dinner he did not get to enjoy. So, to make up for that, he made reservations at a lovely French restaurant, inviting Christine to join him Monday night. However, as they left the house and headed off in Erik's Porsche, they were both fully aware of what had prompted this special night out.

"I know it's our second month anniversary today," Christine teased, watching as his lips turned up in a sly grin. "I do know how to count."

"I never thought otherwise," Erik remarked.

"Then you probably realize I got you a little gift as well," she pressed.

"Yes," Erik nodded, not sounding at all surprised. "Just as I got you one."

"You did?" Christine was now excited. "What is it?"

"You will find out later, after dinner," he assured her.

"Going to make me wait, are you?" she huffed.

"Turnabout _is_ fair play, or so they say, my dear," he chuckled, watching as her mouth dropped open at his thinly veiled insinuation.

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The two ate in a lovely secluded corner, near a fireplace, yet this time there _were_ other patrons dining as well. When asked why he hadn't bought out the restaurant this time, Erik replied that he wished to show her off, making her blush.

As expected, the food was delicious, and the company was even better, the two of them laughing and talking, completely oblivious to the many looks the two lovers were getting from appreciating patrons and staff members. It was completely obvious to all around them that they were a very happily married couple.

After dinner, Christine excused herself and headed for the washroom, wishing to freshen up before they served dessert. As she was washing her hands, her eyes drifted to a little display of items at the far end of the counter. There was hand lotion, mouth wash, Kleenex, and a little wicker basket with a lid. Always the curious sort, Christine stepped over and peeked inside, not at all surprised to find it contained an assortment of feminine products for women, obviously there in case of emergencies. Giving a nod of understanding, she finished drying her hands, tossed her paper towel into the garbage, and headed for the door. But suddenly she stopped, all the color draining from her cheeks as her head whipped around, staring back at the little basket.

 _How long had it been since she last needed such items?_ Christine had never been terribly regular, often starting early, or late, and even skipping a full month once or twice. But was she late now? Bracing her hands on the sink she quickly calculated in her mind when her last period had arrived. She recalled starting just a few days before their first month anniversary…which had been one of the reasons she had informed Erik that she was not ready for anything physical. And if today was their second month anniversary, and she had yet to start, did that mean…?

"Oh, no," Christine whispered, realizing the chances were very real, since she and Erik had never once used any form of protection. And why would they? After all, hadn't Erik made it perfectly clear that he desired an heir, and babies could hardly be created if the participants used condoms or took birth control? But could it have happened that fast?

They had only been intimate for the past three weeks, though they had engaged in sexual activities quite frequently during that time. Had they actually made a child? Was a little Erik, or a little Christine, growing inside her at that very moment? She was suddenly glad that they had decided not to order any wine with dinner, since Erik chose to drive them himself, and not employ Gerald for the evening. And until she knew for sure…there would be no alcohol for her!

She let her hand drop to her stomach, rubbing over it as a sense of both dread and excitement raced through her. _Was she a mother?_

"Excuse me, miss," came a kind voice from behind. "Are you feeling all right? Is there anything I can help with?"

Christine turned to see a pretty blond standing behind her, looking a bit concerned. Obviously, she had been far too wrapped up on her own thoughts to have heard her come in. Taking a deep breath, she gave the woman what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

"No, I'm fine, really," she insisted. _And unless you're an Ob/Gyn, I don't think you could do anything for me at the moment anyway,_ Christine thought to herself. "But thanks for asking."

"If you're certain," the woman nodded, giving her a pleasant smile before heading for one of the stalls.

Christine exited the ladies room and plopped down on the little bench outside in the hallway, desperately trying to figure out what she should do. Should she tell Erik? Was it too soon? Still, being late was nothing new for her, though before when it happened she had never had to worry about such things as pregnancy. And hadn't she heard that sometimes stressful situations, or big emotional changed, could alter a woman's cycle? There was no denying that she had been through a lot of those lately.

"Well, either way…this is not exactly the time or the place to be blurting out my unfounded suspicions," she told herself. "And until I'm more than just a _few_ days late, I shouldn't go getting Erik's hopes up either!" Hearing herself say these things out loud helped solidify them in her mind, giving her the determination to push such wild thoughts aside…at least for tonight.

Standing up, she smoothed down her dress and headed back out to join Erik, smiling fondly as he rose and pulled out her chair, his eyes bright and a smile on his lips. Leaning down, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

"I missed you," he told her, retaking his own seat. "And look what arrived while you were gone." He gestured to the delicious looking vanilla cake with white icing and a strawberry glaze dripping down the sides.

"It looks scrumptious!" she grinned, picking up her fork and digging in. As the confection practically melted in her mouth, she shut her eyes and gave a moan of pleasure.

"Keep making sounds like that, my dear, and I will be forced to whisk you away before you are able to finish another bite," Erik warned, his voice full of passion.

"What sounds?" she asked innocently, taking another bite and vocalizing her pleasure over the dessert once more.

"I am not joking, Christine," Erik cautioned.

"Oh, I can tell," she giggled. "And you are more than welcome to take me home and have your way with me…but first we finish this cake!"

"Is that a promise?" he questioned.

"It is," Christine nodded, turning back to her dessert. She couldn't remember having ever tasted something so wonderful, and if Erik didn't hurry up and eat his own piece, she might be tempted to devour it as well. Christine found it strange that she was suddenly so hungry, especially since they just had a very filling meal.

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Much to her displeasure, Erik did indeed finish off his own dessert, not even leaving her a crumb or a dollop of frosting to steal. But as he walked her to the car, with his warm arm around her, she decided after giving her such a wonderful night, he deserved to have his cake and eat it too.

When they arrived home, Christine took Erik into the entertainment room, making him sit on the sofa while she handed him a little box.

"Happy anniversary," she grinned.

"It certainly has been as far as I am concerned," he assured her, once again unwrapping the gift with agonizing slowness, careful not to tear the paper.

"You know we're just going to throw that away, no matter how meticulous you are with it." Christine told him.

"Ah, but it is the anticipation that is most enjoyable," he explained, continuing with his endeavor. When at last he reached the small box inside, he had to smile fondly as he lifted the lid. "A tie."

"Oh, but not just any tie!" Christine commented. "It's a Jerry Garcia tie, with an adorable guitar tie tack attached!"

"That it is," he nodded, lifting out the colorful looking neck ornament, instantly liking the pattern very much. "You have excellent taste, my dear."

"Of course I do…I picked _you_ , didn't I?" she beamed.

"If that is how you choose to believe things happened between us, who am I to argue?" Erik joked.

"Exactly," Christine nodded firmly. "And because I couldn't think of anything else you might want or need, I went with Amir's original suggestion…since I really don't see you as a sweater guy."

"Excellent observation," Erik agreed, leaning over and kissing her very tenderly on the lips. "I love it, thank you for the very thoughtful gift."

"Now me!" Christine squealed, clapping her hands in anticipation.

"Anxious, are you?" Erik laughed, leaving the room and then returning with a medium sized box, also wrapped in pretty paper with a big bow on top. It was obvious that Erik had taken a long time wrapping the gift, making it look just right. "For you, my darling," he said, placing it into her eager hands.

"Hmmm, it's not too heavy, so it can't be another car," she joked, next giving the package a little shake. "And it doesn't rattle…so it's not a set of dishes."

"Dishes?" Erik questioned, not understanding where this line of thought came from.

"Yes, dishes," she nodded. "Since the modern gift for a second anniversary is china. So, unless there are tickets to the actual place in here, I don't see how that would work."

"No…no tickets to China," he laughed. "Just open it."

Needing no further urging, Christine did just that, ripping into the gift with great enthusiasm. When she opened the box, she squealed in delight, finding an adorable stuffed brown bear…wearing a pair of ruby earrings.

"Am I to assume that these are for me?" she asked, touching the glittering stones in awe. "Or does my new bear like playing dress up?"

"Yes, they are for you. I thought you needed these to go with your necklace," Erik told her, pleased that his present had surprised her. "You cannot go around with naked earlobes, now can you?" Of course, Erik had to admit that was probably the only part of her his wife he didn't wish to see naked.

"No…I suppose not," she agreed, removing them from the bear and quickly putting them on. "How do they look?"

"Much better on you than the bear," he nodded, loving how such things only enhanced the beauty that was already there. "You were born to wear beautiful things, Christine."

"You are far too generous with me, you know," she smiled, taking his face in her palms and pulling him towards her for a very deep kiss of gratitude. "The bear would have been more than enough. Especially after you went all out last time and got me a car."

"Yes, but I do not want you to think I am resting on my laurels," Erik reasoned, reaching out to caress her ears, loving how the light caught the gems. "And, that is no ordinary bear, you know."

"Oh? What does it do?" she picked it up and held it out before her, turning it around several times before giving him a look of suspicion. "It's not one of those nanny-cam bears is it…so you can keep tabs on me or video us in bed, is it?"

"No, it is not. However, now that you mention it…" Erik's words trailed off as if lost in contemplation.

"NO WAY!" Christine giggled, shaking a warning finger at him. "No porn movies!"

"Very well, if you insist," he said with an overly exaggerated sigh. "But try smelling the bear."

"Smelling it?" Now Christine was thoroughly confused, but she did as directed, putting the plush animal to her nose and inhaling deeply. "BACON!" she cried, looking up at Erik in amusement. "It smells like bacon!"

"Did I not say that my little bear cub was a carnivore?" Erik reminded her, referring to the adorable pet name he had chosen early on in their marriage.

"Awwww, that's so cute! I love him, and the earrings! Thank you for a very lovely second month anniversary," she grinned, holding the bear to her chest as she snuggled against his side, allowing Erik to slip his arm around her. "But you know, we might want to stop celebrating every month like this or we'll get tired of shopping really fast."

"I could never tire of giving you things, my dear," Erik objected, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. "Not only is it enjoyable for me, I love seeing your eyes light up when I do. You are very expressive, did you know that? Your emotions are written all over your face, and I love knowing I am able to make you smile."

"So, you mean there is no chance of me hiding anything from you?" she questioned. "That to you, I'm an open book?"

"Something like that…though you were able to keep your meeting with young Mr. Chaney a secret," he pointed out, giving her a disapproving hum. "Still…I could tell that _something_ was bothering you. I simply chose to wait and allow you to tell me what it was. And you did."

"Well, I confess that I do suck at keeping secrets," she admitted. "The guilt eats away at me until I have to spill my guts."

"Far too messy for me," Erik hummed, knowing he would be keeping his 'guts' locked safely away. "Shall we retire to the bedroom now, my little bear cub? I believe that earlier you promised I could have my way with you."

"That I did," Christine laughed, rising to her feet and pulling him up after her. "And now's as good a time as any." She then turned and sat her bear back on the sofa, giving him a little pat on the head. "You stay here though…I don't think I could handle being ravished with someone watching."

"Good idea," Erik nodded, sweeping her up into his arms with a wide smile. "Because you will be thoroughly ravished, my dear. I guarantee it."

Christine could only laugh at his promise, loving every moment of their playful banter. Yet, as he carried her upstairs, she couldn't help but give a sly grin. If her suspicions were correct, and she was with child, she would have to work extra hard at keeping it from Erik until she decided how to tell him. Oh, the possibilities were endless…but she was not sure what was the best way. Still, since she knew nothing for sure, it was not something she needed to decide right now. Instead, she chose to set her mind on Erik alone, giving him and their subsequent activities her full attention.

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Christine wasn't sure what woke her from her slumber, but when she rolled over and noticed that Erik was missing from their bed, she sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Erik?" she called, waiting to see if he were simply in the restroom. When no answer came she pulled back the covers, slipped into a dressing gown and headed for the door, set on searching out her errant husband. As Christine made her way down the stairs, she could hear the soft strains of the piano playing in the music room, alerting her to where Erik was hiding. He had told her that in the past he had often stayed up late into the night composing, doing his best to find the peace of mind that would allow him to rest. Yet since their marriage, he had never abandoned their bed in the middle of the night before…at least not that Christine was aware of. Was he suddenly having difficulty sleeping again?

Turning the handle and opening the door quietly, she found Erik, sitting on the piano bench, dressed in only his pajama bottoms, hunched over the keys as he either played a few notes, or stopped to scribble something down on the pages in front of him. She hated to disturb him, especially when he seemed so engrossed in what he was doing, but Christine was worried.

"Erik?" she spoke at last, causing his fingers to falter over what he had just been playing. "Are you all right?"

Turning around, he gave her an apologetic smile, his mask still removed from when they had gone to bed. Christine had noticed that the texture of his skin had improved slightly since he was keeping it off more these days.

"I am sorry, my dear, did I wake you?" he asked, reaching out with his hand in an invitation for her to join him. "I couldn't sleep, so I came down here to compose."

"Couldn't sleep?" she questioned, accepting his offer and sitting down beside him. "Is anything wrong?"

"No, not at all," he smiled, touched by her obvious concern. It was nice to have someone worried about him. "I just had this melody stuck in my head and I couldn't get it out…so I came down here to write it down."

"Oh…can I hear it?" she asked, suddenly eager to know what he had been working on.

"It is not finished yet," he protested, obviously protective over his incomplete piece. "But when it is, I will be happy to share it with you. In fact, I was hoping that you would sing it for me…since I'm writing it with you in mind. Remember how I said that you were the only one who could bring my music to life?"

"I recall you saying that several times…but what if I disappoint you?" she questioned.

"Disappoint me?" Erik barked out a laugh. "How on earth is that even possible? Nothing you could ever do would be less than perfect in my eyes."

"What about your _ears_?" she pressed. "I know that you are familiar with my range and everything, but…but that's a lot of pressure on me. From all I've seen you do, I know what a perfectionist you are. What if my voice isn't up to par?"

Erik only gave an understanding smile and leaned in to kiss her on the lips, loving how she didn't pull back or flinch with his uncovered face so close to hers.

"Christine, each note is penned for your voice alone, no one else's," he assured her. "I would never write something I knew you couldn't handle. Trust me…you are perfection itself. And I should know, being a perfectionist myself…as you said."

"All right, I will trust you," she said with a slight blush. "You're far more complimentary than I deserve though. For you are the true musical genius. I can't believe you're so good at so many things! No wonder you're a billionaire before the age of forty."

"While my brains are indeed what got me where I am today…I will not lie and say there was not a bit of brawn involved as well," he admitted, looking almost ashamed of his words. "But for now, I think we should get you back to bed."

"No, I don't want to stop your work," she argued. "I can lay down on the sofa and you can keep working, then we can both go up together when you're done."

"Really?" Erik asked, looking hopeful. He was not quite finished and he knew if he tried to sleep now, it would only drive him crazy.

"Yes, now keep going," she insisted, kissing his damaged cheek and then making her way to the sofa, curling up with one of the throw pillows as she watched her husband expectantly. "I can't go back to sleep without a lullaby," she told him, waving her hand in a commanding gesture. "So, get to playing."

"Very well, my sweet," he nodded, returning to his composition eagerly.

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It was nearly dawn when Erik at last sat back, pleased with what he had created. It still needed polishing, perhaps a bit of fine tuning, but the framework was sound and he knew Christine would sing it beautifully. At the thought of his wife, he turned his head, looking at the sleeping angel curled up on the sofa, having long ago drifted off as he worked.

"I have such a thoughtful wife," he told himself in a quiet whisper. He stood up, stretching his sore back and arms, having not moved from that spot since Christine had come down. He heard several cracks and snaps, followed by a sigh of relief. Then, walking over to where she slept, he scooped her up gently and carried her back to bed, all the while her head rested securely on his shoulder, making him smile all the more.

Once she was snuggled back in bed, Erik decided to lay down for a bit as well. He still had a little over an hour before he would need to rise and get ready for work. He wasn't worried about his lack of sleep though, since composing was more invigorating to him than a full night's rest…so he would be fine. Still, lying next to Christine was never something he would pass up. And as the sun eventually rose over the hills…the two slumbered on, wrapped in a cocoon of love.

.

.

Two days later Meg dropped by, the girls not having had time to visit since their spying session on Amir and Antoinette. Erik offered very little information about the new couple, saying he was doing his best to ignore anything he saw or heard, for fear it would turn his stomach. So, having Meg there to tell her what _she_ knew had Christine all excited.

"Soooo, tell me everything!" she stated, the two of them seated on the sofa in the sun room, both sipping on some ice-cold lemonade.

"Well, they seem to be taking things slow, and I mean _really_ slow…as in glacial!" Meg huffed. "They talk on the phone like every night though, and he's taken her out twice since that first time, but as for signs of affection...I got nothing!"

"No peck on the cheek or holding hands?" Christine was surprised. Amir seemed rather sure of himself when it came to women. "Is your mother the one putting on the brakes?"

"I have no idea…and I'm not about to ask her either," she giggled. "That would be creepy, and kind of gross."

"Hmmm, maybe I will have to see if I can worm something out of Amir," Christine mused. "Give that man a sweet coffee, and suddenly he's Chatty Kathy."

"Good to know," Meg laughed. "I will save that secret weapon for later."

"But do they seem happy to you? Are they getting along?" Christine pressed.

"Splendidly! I've never seen my mother so happy," Meg confided in her. "She's been humming in the kitchen, singing in the shower, and I've even caught her staring off at nothing with a goofy grin on her face. It's both adorable and a bit disturbing. I mean I want her to be happy, and if Amir does that for her, I'm all for it…but come on, she's my _mother_!"

"We often do not see our parents as real people, right?" Christine nodded. "They're those special individuals who are always there for us, but also someone we can't imagine sharing with another. I wonder how I might react should my father ever decide to remarry!"

"Oh, but your dad's a silver fox!" Meg interjected. "I'm shocked that he hasn't found someone new long before now!"

"Well, he and my mother were very much in love," Christine explained. "And I'm not saying I would be opposed to him finding love again, I just never gave the idea much thought…until recently." Here she considered her father's confessed interest in Susan, his kind and lovely nurse. "It might be difficult, and a bit awkward, but I suppose I could get used to the idea…but only if I knew he really, really loved her."

"Afraid of the Cinderella syndrome?" Meg inquired. "Oh dear, what if she comes with kids of her own? Are you ready to no longer be an only child?"

"Can we change the subject…all this talk of stepmothers is making me a bit nauseous," Christine begged, placing her hand over her stomach. She had been feeling kind of queasy ever since she got up, but had hoped the toast and juice she had eaten might settle it. Again, that nagging idea that she might actually be pregnant sprang up in her mind. Nausea _was_ one of the tale-tell signs of pregnancy…right?

That was it, Christine decided firmly, if she was not feeling any better, or hadn't started her period by Monday, she was going to make a b-line for the nearest drugstore the moment Erik left for work!

"Sure, no problem," Meg nodded, not noticing Christine's sudden distraction. "I know…we can talk about Raoul!" she said with a look of excitement.

Christine didn't have high hopes that this subject would be any less upsetting, but she was not about to shut her friend down when she seemed so excited to gush about her new boyfriend.

"So, what are you and Prince Charming up to these days?" she asked, doing her best to sound truly curious.

"Well, he unfortunately works a lot, and sometimes late into the evening, but he makes sure to get off in time when we have a date, and he's very attentive the whole time we're together," Meg explained, a dreamy look in her eyes. "He's so polite, so gallant, and the few times things have got really hot and heavy, I have to admit, I didn't want to stop."

"MEG!" Christine scolded.

"Don't worry, we _did_ stop!" she insisted, putting Christine's mind at ease. "And surprisingly, it was Raoul who ultimately put on the brakes…saying that he didn't want me to think that was all he wanted." Meg reached out and grabbed hold of her friend's hands, squeezing them tightly. "I think he really, really likes me, Chris! And I have to say, I'm head over heels for him. I…I might even be in love!"

"Well, if you ask me, so is Raoul," Christine said with a smile. "From the way he was looking at you all evening at the ball, I kind of got that impression. But good for him for not attempting to take things too far and be ungentlemanly."

Meg nodded in agreement, and then dug out her phone, tapping it a few times in order to bring up a certain screen. "Look at what he sent me yesterday, just out of the blue."

Christine took the phone, checking out what had Meg so excited.

 _*Hey Bernie, I was sitting here at work, thinking of you, and wanted to say what a privilege it is having you in my life. You make the sun brighter and the moon more romantic. I miss you, my tiny dancer. Yours forever…Fred*_

"Bernie? Fred?" Christine asked, not understanding the strange names at all. "Are you sure this text was meant for you?"

This made Meg laugh, taking back her phone as she nodded.

"He's been calling me Bernie ever since he found out my middle name was Bernice," she explained. "And since his middle name is Fredric…I've taken to calling him Fred. It might be a bit silly, but I like that we have pet names for each other. Don't you and your husband do that?"

"Ummm, not really," she said with a humorous look. She couldn't imagine calling Erik anything but…well, _Erik_. "He calls me his angel every now and again…oh, and sometimes his little bear cub, because I love bacon."

"Well, that's… _interesting,"_ she agreed, giving her friend a rather confused look. "You should try it sometime, maybe use his middle name, or something he reminds you of."

"I'll think about it," Christine mused. "I just don't see Erik as the pet name kind of guy…unless you count darling or dearest, or something like that."

"It's not for everyone, I guess," she said with a shrug. "But it works for me and Fred…er, I mean Raoul."

"Well, I'm happy for you… _and Fred,"_ Christine suddenly let out a laugh, covering her eyes with her hands in embarrassment.

"What? What's so funny?" Meg demanded.

"I was just thinking that both your pet names sound like a couple of old movies I've seen," she told her. "Weekend at Bernie's…and Drop Dead Fred."

"OH, you're terrible!" Meg squealed, picking up the stuffed bear that was sitting on the sofa between them and threw it at Christine. "Now _that_ will be stuck in my head for days!" she said, the two girls now rolling with laughter. Yet suddenly Meg stopped and looked around, sniffing the air. "Wait…do you smell bacon?"

* * *

 **Bacon? Did someone say bacon? ha ha.**

 **Well, do any of you think Christine has a bun in the oven?**

 **What WILL Erik say about that? IF it is true...**

 **Erik's composing again, gotta love it!**

 **And awww, Bernie and Fred...so cute.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Kristin:** ha ha, I think Erik is AFRAID of the day when Charles can rapid-fire questions at him. Charles does have a good heart. Amir and Antoinette are indeed well matched, now let's see how long it takes till we hear wedding bells. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Cayla:** Glad you enjoyed Erik and Charles' talk. I think they are both trying their best to make nice with each other. They both love the same woman, so how could they not try and work things out? He showed a lot of trust there...good for him. Erik was pouting at having been stuck in the backseat! And Erik was into some shady stuff in his past, of course he would have equipment to help with that. Hope Meg doesn't tattle to Raoul. Yes, that was exactly why he put an end to the spying by texting Amir...to make Christine happy! Glad you saw that. Amir and Antoinette are off to a good start. Let's see how far they can get. Thanks.

 **GuestWraithSnake:** I think I've seen that picture myself! Of a pirate Erik...of sorts. I Love it. And no, I am sorry to say I have no Deviant Art page and there is no Erik art out there for my stories...that I know of. ha ha. Oh if only there were. *FP33 looks around curiously* Any artists want to take a stab at it? HOWEVER...if you look under EMCLucky13 on Deviant Art, in her Gallery, you will see Pirate Erik Lego people! Oh, and a few funny T-shirts she designed. Awww, such adorableness. But I have no social media place of my own with anything...just my stories here and on Amazon and Kindle. I've written for Phantom and the Hobbit, so far. And I am not saying Erik would ever become as bad as Sauron, but he would want to be in charge. ha ha. Maybe he and Thorin could get together and jam...Thorin plays the harp, oh and Fili and Kili the fiddle...which is kind of like a violin, so yes, that is what they would do. Him and Charles have progressed, but there is still some bad vibes between them I think. I thought the date went well too. Let's hope they keep the love going. And Erik has PLENTY of secrets up his sleeve...and don't YOU carry military grade spy gear in YOUR car at all times? ha ha. Thanks.

 **LazyToUseMyAcc:** Ha ha, yes, I can just see Erik 'Gib-slapping' Meg up the back of her head. ha ha. She was really pushing his buttons during that spying session. He wouldn't ever though. Christine is a good buffer. Yep, Antoinette and Amir have boarded the love train. Charles and Erik are starting to see eye to eye...sort of. But it's a start. Yes, I update Monday, Wednesday and Friday - usually around 9:00am in the west coast time zone in the US. Hope that helps. Thanks.

 **Guest:** Yes, one should not bring up 'the tree' in mixed company...or at all! Very true...you destroyed Amir's car Erik, you are not one to talk. Yes, Antoinette decided to take her overtime out in food. Ha ha, yes, here is Charles talking with pretty Susan and then here comes Erik and she leaves, of course he's not happy to see him. ha ha. Nope, Erik and Amir called it a draw on the money this time. Amir MIGHT owe him an apology...but he's not going to get it, is he? ha ha. Thanks.

 **GuestRP:** Awwww, you got a little misty over the Erik and Charles talk? And your roommate is either very nosy, or kindly concerned. Erik is opening up, isn't he? Boy, Christine would have been heartbroken if her dad had keeled over at the sight of Erik's face! And Erik would have never forgiven himself. Erik would have loved having a kind dad like him as a child. Yep, Erik is the one who texted. I think Amir and Antoinette feel the same about each other. Hmmmm, what IS Erik's connection to the mob and why does it involve Christine like he keeps saying? Good questions. They will be answered...in time. Thanks.


	56. Chapter 56

.

 **Posting late Thursday night...because I plan on sleeping in tomorrow and don't want to get up early to hit send. ha ha.**

.

 **Well...is Christine pregnant, or is she not?**

 **How about we go see if we can find out.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 56**

 **~X~**

* * *

It had been a week since Amir and Antoinette had met at the restaurant, and he was taking her out again to dinner and a concert in the park. However, since they wanted to eat before the performance, Amir had talked Gerald into watching over Christine so he could pick her up at work and leave a bit early. Erik had pre-approved the bodyguard switch, albeit begrudgingly, leaving the chauffeur standing in the foyer as he was given his orders.

"Don't let Christine leave unaccompanied, and don't let anyone onto the property," Amir warned the large man in front of him. "Pretty much…that's it."

"And you get paid _how much_ for this?" Gerald laughed, thinking it sounded like a pretty cush job.

"I also put up with Erik's tirades a great deal too," he reminded him.

"Oh, right…never mind," Gerald nodded.

"Erik should be home in a few hours anyway, and then you'll be off duty," Amir told him, heading out the door to pick up Antoinette.

Once he was gone, Gerald went looking for Christine, finding her out back digging in the dirt, happily planting the flower bulbs the gardener had picked up for her.

"Ahhhh, so you got stuck with the job of babysitting me this afternoon," Christine laughed, noticing Gerald's rather nervous appearance. "Don't worry, I have no plans to go over the wall, or invite the Hell's Angels in for a party."

"Good to know," the bald man laughed. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Nope, I got it covered," she smiled, returning to her work with the little spade. "Go ahead and get yourself a soda or something and just relax."

With a nod, he did just that, slipping into the kitchen and helping himself to one of Erik's imported beers. He then sat out on the patio, relaxing as he watched Christine garden.

When she was finished, she announced that she wanted to wash her car.

"I can do that for you, Mrs. Thorn," he insisted.

"No, I want to do it myself!" Christine protested. "I've never had a car before, and washing it myself sounds like fun!"

"All right," he shrugged. "But I bet you won't feel that way in a month or two. It gets old pretty fast."

"Then let me have my fun while it lasts!" she laughed, heading upstairs to change out of her work jeans and into something more conducive for washing a car.

When Christine stepped into her closet, she hummed thoughtfully.

"What to wear, what to wear?" she mumbled to herself, wondering what would be best suited for the job. That's when she spotted a little bag on the floor by her shoes, and a wide, wicked grin spread over her face. "Oh… _this_ should prove interesting!"

.

.

Erik and Antoinette were talking in his office, going over a proposal that looked rather promising, when Amir knocked on the door and stuck his head inside.

"Are you about ready to go, Annie?" he asked hopefully. "I made reservations for five on the dot."

"It is just now four!" Erik grumbled, looking down at his Rolex. "I said she could leave at four thirty, and not a moment sooner!"

"Why do you even continue working for him?" Amir questioned his girlfriend, giving Erik a withering glare. "I'm sure you could find a million jobs in this city where your talents are more appreciated."

"Ah, but you forget the fringe benefits I receive by working here," she reminded him with a smile. "One of them being, I get to see _you_ quite often."

"Ah yes, that is a perk, isn't it?" Amir nodded, loving how her eyes lit up when he walked in.

"Not for me," Erik groused. He might have said more, but his phone buzzed just then, telling him he had a text. When he pulled out his cell, and saw it was from Christine, he grinned, opening the attached file quite eagerly. Yet what he saw caused him to choke on his own air and nearly drop the device.

"Erik! What is it?" Amir asked, suddenly concerned over leaving Christine with Gerald.

"I…I have to go home…NOW!" he stated, standing up so quickly he nearly knocked his chair over. Heading for the rack in the corner he grabbed his jacket, his usually smooth movements were clumsy, causing him to become irritated by the action. After a few more seconds gave up and just hung it over his arm, making a b-line for the door.

"Erik…wait!" Amir called, watching the man fly across the reception area and out to the elevator. When Erik was out of sight, he turned to Antoinette. "What's going on?"

"I have no idea," she replied, just as shocked by her boss' actions as Amir was. It was then that she spotted something on the little table by the coat rack. "Look…he forgot his phone! Should we run after him?"

"No, he's long gone by now," the Persian said with a sigh. "However…" he walked over and picked up Erik's phone, swiping up to open the screen. Thankfully, it was set to not automatically lock until after not being in use for at least five minutes, allowing him to access the last message received. When he saw the attached photo Christine had sent him, Amir let out a loud bark of laughter, now completely understanding Erik's sudden need to get home.

"What is it?" Antoinette asked, a sense of relief flooding over her when she saw Amir's reaction. "Show me!"

"It would appear that Christine is becoming a master at teasing her husband," he chuckled, turning the phone so she could view the screen.

"Oh, my!" Antoinette gasped, seeing the picture of Christine washing her new car, leaning way over to reach the middle of the hood, with a soapy rag in her hand and a playful smile on her face. But what really must have caught Erik's attention was the skimpy little farm girl outfit she was wearing. "And where did she get _that_ little number?"

"At a thrift store about a month or so back," Amir informed her. "It was one of the choices she had for her costume at Juilliard…but apparently Erik felt it was a bit too revealing to be worn in public. I didn't know she kept it…and from the way he reacted, I doubt Erik did either. Oh, that little tease, she's going to be the death of that man yet."

"Well, at least he'll die happy," Antoinette laughed.

"As will I, if we can get out of here and begin our date," he offered, slipping Erik's phone in his pocket, thinking he would return it to him when he got home later.

"Not until four-thirty," she stated with a firm shake of her head.

"But Erik's gone…he'll never know if you take off early," Amir reasoned.

" _I_ will know, and I am not about to take advantage of my employer's generosity," Antoinette informed him. "Now, sit out in the waiting room like a good boy and amuse yourself until I am officially off the clock. Meanwhile, I'll take care of this and make a few last-minute calls." She then reached up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "And no sulking."

"Yes, ma'am," he smiled. "Sexy, smart, and loyal…you're a real catch!"

"Oh no, there's no need for you to try and catch me," she said, turning to leave. "For I'm done running…ten years is long enough for that." And with a flash of a smile, she left the room, causing Amir to reach out and steady himself on Erik's desk, his other hand going over his heart.

"What a woman!" he sighed.

.

.

Christine had long since finished washing her car and was giving it a nice towel dry when she saw Erik's Porsche racing up the driveway. A secretive smile spread over her face, and she could feel her tummy flip in excitement…oh, how she loved that man!

Gerald had been somewhat reluctant to take the photo of her when she'd asked him, worried that his boss would disapprove of him seeing his wife in that outfit. But, she had pointed out that she couldn't very well take it herself…so he was roped in to doing it. Yet the moment he too saw Erik arriving home, he waved farewell and conveniently disappeared.

It took no time at all for Erik to park the car and exit the garage, heading straight for his scantily clad wife. She looked even better than he remembered in those cut-off shorts and the red and white checkered shirt, causing his body to react very much the same way it had before. However, this time there would be no need for a cold shower to alleviate his discomfort, confident that Christine would happily take care of it for him.

"Why Erik…whatever are you doing home so soon?" she asked, in mock-innocence. "I thought you said you were working until at least five today."

"You know damn well what I am doing home, you little vixen," he hissed, taking her in his arms and kissing her quite soundly, her back pressed up against the now shiny hood of her vehicle. "One does not send a photo like that to a man if she does not wish to suffer the consequences."

"And what might those be?" she chuckled, batting her eyelashes at him ever so sweetly.

"Allow me to demonstrate," Erik offered, picking her up and heading directly for the front porch.

"Oh, if you must," was her glib reply, kicking off her flip-flops on the way as Erik sailed through the door.

.

.

Later, after Christine felt thoroughly, and deliciously, chastised for her scandalous text photo, the two lovers lay wrapped in each other's arms, enjoying the afterglow of their intimacy.

"Erik…what is your middle name?" she questioned absentmindedly, running her fingers up and down his chest.

"Where did this come from?" he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"Well…it's just that you never said, and I was curious," she explained.

"I have no middle name, Christine," he confessed. "I never saw the need for one. Erik was all I was given at the orphanage, and I chose Thorn myself. Does it matter?"

"No, not at all…I was just thinking it might be a sweet pet name for me to call you is all," she told him, hoping her prying had not spoiled the mood.

"You wish to have a pet name for me?" Erik was not sure if he liked the idea or not. While anything Christine chose to do was fine by him, he wasn't sure he would like to be referred to as sweetie-pie, snookums…or anything else that foolish sounding.

"Well…you call me angel, or your little bear cub, so I thought maybe…" she now felt rather silly for bringing up the subject.

"And what do you have in mind?" Erik asked, willing to entertain the idea if it was something she was dead set on.

"I don't know…something sexy?" Christine laughed. "I suppose I could go with Zorro. But maybe that would be too obvious, seeing as how you went to the ball as that," she mused. "How about Casanova? Oh, wait…no, Don Juan!"

"Don Juan?" Erik repeated, giving her a look of confusion. "The wealthy libertine who devotes his life to seducing women of all ages and station in life, taking great pride in his ability to do so? Interesting."

"Well…you _are_ rather good at seduction, and while I might be a bit of a novice at such things, I am inclined to believe you are a master at the art of making love," she chuckled, squealing a bit as he gently rolled her over and hovered above her.

"And you would find pleasure in referring to me by this name?" he questioned, leaning down to nibble at her neck.

"Of course, he is legendary…and so are you," she said in a breathless voice. "Books have been written about him, movies made, ballads sung."

"Ballads sung?" Erik asked, pulling away, his eyes now alight with something other than desire. "Yet…has there ever been an opera written about such a man?"

"I…I don't know," she answered, confused by his sudden shift in mood. "Why? Does it matter?"

"I was just thinking," he told her, rolling over so that he was resting on his hip, gazing off as if in deep thought. "Many of the songs I have been writing would fit well in an opera centered on the legendary lover, Don Juan. In fact…the one I penned just the other evening would be perfect." His eyes grew wide with excitement as he sat up and reached for his abandoned pants. Soon he was up and pacing around the room, his fingers twitching eagerly, as if wishing to feel the keys of the piano beneath them. "It would need to begin with the man being portrayed as a scoundrel…self-assured and proud of his skills. But then, he meets a woman who is not swayed by his tricks and powers of seduction…yes…I can see it all now!" Suddenly he turned and left the room, his mind already whirling with brilliant ideas and enthralling melodies.

Christine propped herself up on her elbows and stared at where her husband had gone, a look of utter confusion on her face.

"Ummm…what just happened?" she asked herself out loud, completely dumbfounded by Erik's sudden disappearance.

.

.

Several minutes later, Christine found him down in the music room, thoroughly absorbed in writing out his ideas, stopping now and then to play an idea on the piano. She was torn between being offended by his shift in focus, or in awe over his passion for music. It was wonderful that he felt the same way as she when it came to their art, but still…Christine had been rather looking forward to lying in bed a bit longer with her husband.

"Erik, my love," she said quietly as she came up behind him, letting her hands slide over his back and come to rest on his shoulders. "Must you do this right now?"

"Hmmmm?" he murmured without looking up, his hand never faltering once as he continued to write with frantic speed. "What did you say, darling?"

"I asked if this could possibly wait," she hinted, leaning in to kiss the back of his ear. "Or is this my true punishment for sending that text, abandoning our bed and leaving it cold?"

This time, at the sound of her disappointed tone, Erik halted and turned around on the bench, looking up at her apologetically.

"Oh, Christine," Erik gasped, reaching out to take her hand in his. "Please forgive me. What a fool I am for leaving you that way. I was simply overtaken by the need to get my ideas down on paper." He stood up and took her in his arms. "I have been a wretched husband to you."

"Oh, Erik…there you go overreacting again," she giggled, loving how warm he was against her body, having only taken the time to slip on her dressing gown. "Don't be silly, I understand that one must act promptly when the creative muse strikes. I'm not angry, honest."

"Well I am… _at myself!_ " he muttered. "You deserve better."

"I already have the best husband in the world…what else could I wish for?" she told him, pulling back so she could reach up and kiss him on the lips.

"My full and undivided attention?" Erik suggested. "Especially when you look so beautiful lying beside me in bed?"

"Well…I wouldn't turn it down," she said with a sly tone. "But right now, I think your time is best spent being inspired in a diffident way, my _Don Juan._ "

"You would do that for me?" he asked, looking almost unable to believe his good fortune.

"I would do just about anything for you," Christine assured him. "And perhaps later, when you have exhausted yourself musically, you can bring your talents back to our bedroom, and warm me up properly?"

"You have my word," Erik agreed happily.

She then reached up and kissed him once again. "Now, get back to work, for I am anxious to hear this masterpiece performed."

"And it will be dedicated to you, my lady love," Erik assured her, quickly retaking his seat on the piano bench.

When he said no more, Christine chuckled softly and turned to go, not wishing to disturb him any further. Yet just as she went to exit the room, she heard his voice call from behind.

"Christine?" he said.

"Yes?" she responded, turning back to look at him fondly.

"I love you," was Erik's heartfelt reply.

"And I love you," Christine assured him. "Now…write something beautiful for me, Maestro." And just like that…Christine knew she had found the perfect name for Erik. _Maestro._

 _._

 _._

Erik did indeed make good on his promise, lavishing Christine once again with his full attention later that night, much to her pleasure. Yet, something had been set ablaze inside him and he spent a great deal of time in the music room over the next few days, working away. Erik was careful not to lose himself in his composing however, like he had been known to do in the past, often letting days go by before he resurfaced. Yet, now with not only a company to run, and a wife to take care of, he knew he would need to manage his time more wisely.

Thankfully, Christine didn't seem to mind, and busied herself by working out in the back yard the following morning and then driving herself to Leathwood to visit her father in the afternoon. Having nothing better to do on a Sunday afternoon himself, Amir offered to accompany her, knowing just how immersed Erik could get when composing.

When they arrived, Amir made himself comfortable in the lobby area, allowing Christine plenty of alone-time with her father, while still remaining close by for protection. When she entered his room, Christine was surprised to see Dr. Mills, talking with Susan, who had just been getting Charles ready for a stroll outside.

"What are you doing here on a Sunday, Doctor?" she asked, always delighted to see the kind man.

"Well, my wife and I are going out of town later this week to visit her parents, so I'm playing catch up before we go," he explained. "And I was just telling Susan, and my favorite patient, that I think it is time to begin some therapy."

"Therapy? Already?" Christine was excited to hear that word used at last, for in her mind it was one step closer to his full recovery!

"We need to get his arm and leg muscles used to moving again, that way when his nerves fully heal, he can start working them himself," Dr. Mills explained.

"When will he be able to speak again?" she questioned, not at all sure how the progression would go.

"Not for a while yet," he explained. "The larynx muscles are the hardest to reactivate, since there is no way to exercise them externally. They will simply need to rejuvenate on their own. But don't worry, it will happen."

"I believe you!" Christine grinned. "You have been spot on about everything else so far!"

"I thank you for your vote of confidence," he laughed. "Now if you will all excuse me, I'll head to my office and write up the orders to begin therapy on Monday."

"Well, don't let me keep you!" Christine laughed, eager to see it done. "And thank you for everything you are doing, Doctor Mills…I am so grateful, truly."

"It's my pleasure, Christine," he nodded, patting her arm kindly as he headed for his office.

"Your father's all ready to go, would you care to take him out for his walk today?" Susan offered, stepping aside and offering the job to Christine. "I'm sure he would love to have a new chauffeur pushing him around for a change."

"I'm certain that he will never grow bored with you, Susan," Christine assured her, though she was only too happy to accept the privilege of spending time with her father.

.

.

It was a beautiful day, one that told the world that spring had now melted into summer, with a warm breeze and the sound of happy birds in the trees. Christine kept up a steady stream of chatter, talking about the upcoming therapy, telling him all about her little flower garden, and her new car - extolling the virtues of having the ability to drive herself anywhere. She asked him lots of questions as well, still beyond delighted that he was able to answer her, even in his limited fashion. After never imagining that he would be able to communicate ever again, this was akin to a miracle in her eyes.

They had just circled the little pond area, admiring the ducks and all the little fish swimming around in the shallows, when Christine began to feel a bit flushed. It really wasn't that warm outside, but perhaps the walk had been more exertion than she expected. After all, she had been on summer break for several weeks now, and Christine figured she was probably more out of shape than she thought.

"Would you mind if we headed back in, Papa?" she asked, leaning over his shoulder so that he could turn his eyes towards her. "I could really use a drink of water. Is that all right with you?"

The green light flashed, accompanied by the ding, ding of the bell.

"Good," she nodded, taking hold of the handles of his wheel chair. "Then we can have a nice long visit before I must head home. I've learned that when Erik is composing, if I don't remind him to eat, he will work right through dinner." She gave a little laugh and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Does that remind you of someone else I know and love?"

 _Ding ding,_ came the bell, telling her that he did indeed.

"When you would be practicing your violin, I had to practically shout to get your attention," she laughed, remembering how engrossed he would become as well. "I'm finding that you and Erik have more and more in common every day. I truly think the two of you _would_ get along. And remember, you promised me that you would try…right?"

 _Ding, ding_ , was his reply, causing Christine to smile happily.

"Thank you, Papa," she said gratefully.

They had arrived at the doors to the lobby area and she reached out and pressed the button to make them swing open automatically. As she did, Christine began to feel dizzy, making her glad she had her father's chair to hold on to as she pushed him through. Yet the farther they went inside, the weaker she became, until her vision began to narrow and there seemed to be a slight ringing in her ears. Obviously, she must have appeared as sickly as she felt, for only seconds after they had stepped into the waiting area, Amir was at her side.

"Christine…what's the matter?" he asked, his voice sounding as if it were under water.

"Amir, I…I don't feel very…" was all she could say before her legs gave out, and down she went.

"Christine!" Amir cried, catching her in his arms as she fell, cradling her gently as he rushed her to a nearby sofa, lying her down as he looked around frantically. "We need some help over here! Someone fetch a doctor…NOW!" he called, all the while hearing Charles hitting both the bell and buzzer over and over, doing his best to communicate his fear over his daughter's sudden fainting spell. Taking out his phone, Amir quickly dialed Erik, knowing that if he didn't call immediately, his friend would have his head…or worse.

Oh, Erik was not going to be happy about this, not in the least!

.

.

Erik had been so engrossed in his composing that he didn't hear his phone at first, his overly busy mind zoning it out until the fourth or fifth ring. Then as the sound slowly made its way through, he jumped up and grabbed it off the nearby table, worried that is might be Christine trying to get a hold of him. And he never wished to miss one of _her_ calls. Yet when he saw Amir's number appear, he suddenly worried for a completely different reason.

"What is wrong?" he demanded. "Speak, man!"

"Christine was taking her father for a walk when she got dizzy and passed out," Amir said, cringing just a bit as he explained. "The doctor is checking her now, but she's still out cold."

"WHAT?" Erik hollered, immediately heading for the door. "Why? What happened to her?"

"I don't know," Amir responded. "Wait…they want to move her into one of the rooms…I have to go. Just get here!" And then he hung up, leaving Erik in a state of unmitigated panic.

Why had Christine fainted? Things were going so well between them, he couldn't lose her now! He could feel his stomach clench in worry as he bolted out the door and jumped into his Ferrari. He had to get to her…he had to make sure she was alright. And until he did, Erik knew he would be dying inside as every moment ticked by.

.

.

Consciousness returned slowly, causing Christine to blink her eyes several times before she could focus once again.

"Christine? Christine, can you hear me?" came the kindly voice of Dr. Mills. "There we go…just take it slow. How do you feel?"

"I…I feel kind of dizzy…but better, I think," she answered. "Did I pass out?"

"That you did," he nodded. "When I got there Mr. Dessan had laid you on one of the sofas, and I could swear your father's light pads were flashing out an S.O.S. You had everyone quite worried."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause trouble," she told him, looking around at all the worried faces. There was Amir, Susan, and of course her father, all staring at her with concern. "I…I think I'm all right now."

"Do you know what might have triggered your little fainting spell?" the doctor asked, reaching out and flashing a little light in her eyes, looking to see if her pupils dilated correctly. "Have you been ill? Not eating well? Having trouble sleeping?"

"No, I eat like a horse, and sleep like a log…" here she stopped and gave him a rather embarrassed look. "Although, I have been feeling a bit nauseous lately…especially in the mornings."

"Ahhhh, I see," Mills smiled, straightening up and crossing his arms over his chest. "I think we both know what might be causing this then."

"You do?" Amir pressed, looking from one to the other. "Mind sharing with the rest of the class?"

"Would you all mind stepping out of the room for a bit, and give my patient and me a little bit of privacy?" he asked, looking at the three worried faces. "Best get this all sorted out now, don't you think?"

"We'll be waiting outside the door, Doctor," Susan nodded, turning Charles' chair around and pushed him towards the exit. "Don't worry, she'll be just fine, Charles. You raised a tough girl there," she told him as they left.

Amir, however, was a bit more of a hard sell, standing there with his arms crossed, refusing to leave.

"Please, Mr. Dessan," Dr. Mills asked. "I can't do an examination with you in the room. It would be best if you left as well."

"Go ahead, Amir," Christine added, knowing how seriously the Persian took his job. "I need to get this all sorted out before Erik hears of it and comes running."

"Um…too late for that," he admitted, sounding a bit sheepish. "I called him the moment you passed out. He's undoubtedly on the way now."

 _"You already called Erik?"_ Christine moaned, covering her eyes in exasperation. "You know how anxious he gets, this can't be good for his health!"

"Well, _not_ calling him would have been bad for mine!" Amir protested.

"Fine," she huffed. "Since the damage is already done, how about you go to the front door and lead him in, and hopefully by then we will have more information to give him other than I simply fainted?"

"All right…but if you need anything, send someone to get me, you hear?" he ordered, pointing his finger at both Christine and Dr. Mills.

"We will, I promise," the doctor agreed, escorting Amir to the door and closing it behind him. "It's nice that your husband cares so much, but don't you often feel a bit smothered?" he laughed, walking back over to her.

"I've gotten used to it," she said with a little giggle. "They mean well, they truly do."

"I'm sure that's the case," he nodded. "Now…you said you've been feeling dizzy and a bit nauseous? How long has this been going on?"

"About a week…maybe more," Christine told him.

"And when was your last menstrual cycle?" came his next telling question.

"Well…I've never been super regular," she said, sounding almost embarrassed by her need to reveal such things. "But, truth be told…I'm now almost two weeks late."

"Then I think it's best we run a pregnancy test, before we look any further," he told her with a wide grin. "For it is my professional opinion that you, my dear, are going to be a mother."

"I…I kind of suspected that as well, but I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up until it was for sure," she admitted. "Will it take long to find out?"

"No, we have a lab here on site, I will go get a test kit, take a little blood, and we should know within half an hour," he patted her on the hand. "I'll be sure to put a rush on it, seeing as how your husband is on his way."

"Thank you, Doctor," she said with a sigh of relief. "That would be most appreciated."

"Wait here, and I'll be right back," he said with a wink.

"Where would I go?" she laughed, watching him leave. Christine then laid her hands over her stomach, and gave it a little frown. "You haven't even arrived yet, and I bet you've already given your father a few grey hairs." She then laid her head back on the pillow. " _A baby…_ " she whispered, a wide smile spreading over her lips. "I really hope Erik will be excited!"

* * *

 **Well I think the odds that she IS pregnant just went up a few notches, right? Wonder how Erik will take the news?**

 **Poor Amir, always caught between a rock and a hard place. You know, one day, he is just going to call Erik simply to talk, and that will totally confuse that poor man. ha ha.**

 **How did you like the reappearance of the skimpy outfit? I think Erik was quite happy she hadn't gotten rid of it.**

 **So, Erik is going to write an opera is he? And about Don Juan? How original - *wink wink***

 **And Christine found Erik a nickname. Maestro. awwww.**

 **I must give KittyPimms credit for Meg and Raoul's nicknames. She started calling Meg Bernie when she heard what her middle name was, and since she apparently detests Raoul so much, she had to call him Fred just to get through reading the chapters...unable to look at his name even. ha ha. So Bernie and Fred just stuck.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Kristin:** You like Bernie and Fred, do ya? I can't take credit for them, however...see my note from above. ha ha. But yes, she is his tiny dancer as well. Bacon Bear was a big hit it would seem. Wow...already planning Amir and Annie's wedding? Well, no sense in waiting another ten years, right? ha ha. Thanks.

 **Bleaky:** NO! Don't throw the phone! Then how will you read the next chapter, and the next, etc? Keep it safe and whole - unless it is old and needs replacing and then you should get a new one. ha ha. Mine is still hanging in there, but someday... Ok, for their third anniversary, he should get her a little bear cub that has a book in it's hand, just for reading. ha ha. Thanks.

 **GuestRP:** Erik has been wanting to be romantic with someone for so long, he's got a lot of it saved up. Glad everyone liked the bear...I had a terrible time trying to figure out what to have him get her. Yes, she does need the bracelet and ring to match! ha ha. I hope you like the nick name she did choose. Oh yes, I can see Erik spoiling his child like crazy. Uncle Amir and Aunt Annie would be begging to baby sit all the time. Ha ha, Uncle Ninja would be funny. Thanks.

 **GuestWraithSnake:** I have to ask...how in the world did you come up with your screen name. Or, do I want to know. ha ha. Anytime you want to draw a scene, go for it, but I won't nag or hold you to it. ha ha. Ha ha, other than the blind hair and strange wood crown, I think Erik is a lot like Thranduil. I mean, he even has a throne in the lair you know. ha ha. Yes, Erik would so be a Thranduil type, but enjoy hanging out with the sons of Durin. ha ha. Charles still has time to warm up to Erik. She just might be pregnant! A kid would certainly stir things up...after it's born. Meg is looking forward to having Amir as her new daddy. And he's a lot better than her last one too. Not sure if it will be a song anyone knows, mostly because if I put any song from the movie or play in my story, I can't publish it on Amazon later. Sooooo, looks like the songs might end up left to YOUR imagination...but really, how hard is that to dream up, ha ha. It's Erik, after all. ha ha. And yep...Meg and Raoul are two peas in a pod. Thanks.

 **1pulga1:** No...Erik is not going to expect ANYTHING...he's a man. ha ha. But no, he can't complain about anything, since he did nothing to stop it from happening, in fact, he more than encouraged it. ha ha. Charles might like the idea of a grand-baby! Ha ha, that is assuming Christine ever finds out about Erik meeting with Raoul. He might keep that a big old secret...one of many. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Cayla:** I know, after 50+ chapters one would THINK more time had passed, but nope! ha ha. My hubby and I did the month thing for a while too, but ran out of ideas for gifts...and money...so we stopped after like four and just waited for a full year. ha ha. Erik is a hard man to buy for, but he would be happy with just a kiss and a smile. She needs to go get an EPT stick and tinkle on it, right? ha ha. And they may have only been married two months, but a baby would not be coming for at least another eight, so they have time to keep bonding. ha ha. Christine IS Erik's muse and inspiration, so of course he would be composing again. Gotta love it. Thanks.


	57. Chapter 57

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 **Well, time to find out for sure if Christine has a bun in the oven!**

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 **Chapter 57**

 **~X~**

* * *

Amir had been pacing back and forth in front of the sliding glass doors for nearly twenty minutes, worrying about Christine, and what Erik was going to say when he arrived. The Persian normally enjoyed needling his friend, the two of them having formed a rather unique relationship over the years, but there would be no smart remarks this time. Theirs was indeed an odd friendship by all accounts, with Amir having always allowed the masked man to take the lead in business, never having had the desire to be the responsible one in their partnership.

Thus, when they decided to leave Iran and head for the U.S., it was Erik who created Phantom Industries, with Amir lending support and any assistance that was needed. Yes, he would much rather be a silent partner…a handsomely paid one, of course, but still not the one running the show. Yet, over the years, Amir had always been keenly aware of Erik's fragile state of mind, the number his sister had done on him not helping in the least. Yes, Erik was hard as nails on the outside, but when it came to emotions, his friend was dangerously vulnerable, often leaving him to worry over his mental stability.

However, since Christine had come into Erik's life, things had rapidly improved, both with his attitude and his level of happiness. But now, Amir feared what would become of his friend should something go wrong between him and his new wife. Until now, he hadn't had much cause for concern, since Christine was nothing short of a saint, and appeared quite pleased with the way things were going. Yet he had never considered a medical problem being what might take her away from his friend. Amir knew that such a thing would surely kill Erik…and the idea made the Persian shudder with both fear and sorrow.

In far less time than it would take a normal person to drive the distance to Leathwood, Amir watched the familiar black Ferrari pull up, screeching to a halt as Erik leapt out and raced towards him. Opening the door, Amir let him slip inside, and instantly the questions began spilling from Erik's mouth.

"Where is she? What is the prognosis? Is she alright?" Erik begged to know, looking at Amir in utter desperation.

"The doctor is with her now," he replied. "She's awake and seems well, but Mills wanted to do an examination, so I was asked to leave."

"Examination for what?" was Erik's next question.

"I don't know, but I'll take you to her and hopefully they know something by now." Amir then headed off in the direction of the room Christine was in, with Erik hot on his heels.

.

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When they entered, they found Susan and Charles there, with Christine lying on the bed, the room devoid of all other furnishings, being one that was not currently in use. The moment he spotted her, Erik rushed forward, taking his place on the bed beside her, as he cradled her hand in his.

"Christine, my love…are you alright?" he begged to know, panic and concern quite evident in his eyes and tone. "I came as quickly as I could. Tell me what happened, why did you faint?"

"Well…we don't know for sure just yet," she admitted, since Dr. Mills had still not returned with the results from her test. "But…" here she was cut off by Erik's concerned voice.

"THEY DON'T KNOW?" he nearly shouted. "Then we must find someone to tell us! I will not allow my wife to simply lie here, not being treated for whatever ails her!" He stood up and walked to the door, shouting down the hall in an authoritative tone. "WE NEED A DOCTOR IN HERE RIGHT AWAY! Do you hear me! My wife is in distress!" Then not waiting for a reply, he returned to her side.

"Erik…I think _you're_ the one in distress, not me," Christine told him, her face red with embarrassment over his antics. Reaching over she patted him on the arm in a kind manner. "Now, calm down, Dr. Mills is tending to me just fine. But tests take time."

"Tests?" he barked. "What tests?" It was then that he saw the stretchy gauze covering a small cotton ball just below the inside of her elbow. "They stabbed you with a needle?" This did not set well with him at all. No one was allowed to damage his wife! _No one!_

"Don't worry, Mr. Thorn," Susan said in a soothing tone, doing her best to calm him down. "She's not injured, they just took a little blood to help find out what's going on. Christine barely felt a thing."

"It's true…I'm in no pain, and honestly I feel fine now," she assured him. "But Dr. Mills told me to stay put until he returns."

"Then where the hell is he?" Erik asked in irritation, about to jump up and go searching for the man himself.

"I'm right here, Mr. Thorn, no need to shout," the kindly doctor stated, entering the room as if on cue. "And not a moment too soon it would appear."

"And what did you find?" Erik demanded, turning to look at the man eagerly. "Is Christine all right? Is she in any danger? I will engage the best doctors there are, build a hospital if necessary… _anything_ , if it means helping her get well!"

"Well, there _are_ a few doctors I can recommend, ones that specialize in her specific condition," Mills nodded, the sly grin never leaving his lips. "As for what that condition is…perhaps she would like to tell you herself." Here he reached out and handed Christine a small slip of paper, nodding that she should open it.

The look on Dr. Mills face was proof enough for Christine, but she still unfolded the paper and stared at the words written across it. There was a lot of medical mumbo jumbo and technical words she didn't understand, but the three that Christine _did_ recognize stood out like a flashing neon sign.

 _*Positive for pregnancy*_

Giving a little squeal of joy, she covered her mouth as a few tears gathered in her eyes.

"Christine! What is it?" Erik was now beyond frantic. "Tell me…please!"

"I…I'm pregnant Erik!" she told him, her voice barely above a whisper. "We're going to have a baby!"

For all his previous bluster and fussing, Erik was instantly struck silent, unable to speak for a good thirty seconds. Everyone else in the room, except Dr. Mills, and Charles of course, let out gasps of shock.

"A…a baby?" Erik spoke at last. "You…you are with child?"

"According to this, I am," she grinned, turning the page around so he could see it as well.

While he took the paper with a shaking hand, Susan squealed with joy.

"Oh, my dear, congratulations! I'm so tickled for you! For you both!" She then looked over at Charles. "You're going to be a grandfather!"

"Papa…what do you think?" Christine asked, suddenly worried that he might somehow not approve. "Are you happy for me?"

At first, he only blinked a few times, as if trying to gather his thoughts, and then there came the definite sound of the _ding, ding_ and the green light flashing on and off multiple times. Apparently, he was thrilled!

"You two are going to have a kid?" Amir said in a stunned voice. "You mean now there will be three of you for me to watch out for?" His face broke out in a wide grin, extremely pleased by the news. Still, never one to pass up a chance to razz Erik, he gave his arm a slight smack. "I better get a raise, old buddy!"

Erik, still staring at the paper, didn't even seem to register his words, causing Dr. Mills to chuckle slightly at the sight.

"Perhaps it's best we leave these two alone to talk, don't you think?" he asked, gesturing towards the door. "I've found the coffee in the lounge area to be quite good, and we can all toast to the newest little Thorn."

Everyone nodded in agreement, giving Christine smiles and waves, and Erik pats on the shoulder, as they left. Once the door was shut behind them, the silence in the room became overpowering.

"Erik?" Christine said in a tiny voice, full of worry. "You…you are happy about this…aren't you?"

"Happy?" Erik repeated, no sign of emotion in his words. " _Happy?_ I…I am just so…shocked."

"You are? Why?" this was confusing to her. "But I thought you _wanted_ a child, expected one even. That was the whole reason for the contract, wasn't it?"

"No, Christine…it was not," he told her. "The contract was my way of making sure you said _yes_. The stipulation about having a child was only added to ensure that our relationship would eventually lead to physical intimacy. Truth be told, my desire for a child was only a ploy…nothing more. I suppose, once you actually said you loved me, and gave yourself to me willingly, I forgot all about the possibility of a baby being created."

"Oh," was her stunned reply. "Then…does that mean you don't want it?" She could feel tears now running down her cheeks, devastated by the idea that Erik did not desire this child the same way she did.

"WHAT?" Erik gasped, looking up at her in utter confusion. "NO! That is _not_ what I meant at all!" he dropped the paper and reached out to cup her cheeks in his palms, smoothing away her tears with his thumbs. "Oh, my dearest…please do not cry. I _do_ want this child, more than you could possibly imagine, truly!"

"You…you do?" she sniffed, searching his eyes for the truth.

"Of course, I do! Though it is rather unexpected…to me at least, I am beyond excited about the prospect. It is one of those things I never dreamed possible…never believed I would ever be blessed with. And, because it was made by _our_ love…I will cherish it even more," he told her, his own eyes now brimming with tears as well, yet it was more than evident that they were happy ones. "I could not be more thrilled by this news, honestly…I am just…so surprised!"

"Well, you really shouldn't be," she laughed. "I mean we _have_ been engaging in the act that creates these little things quite a lot, you know."

"Yes…I am fully aware of that," he chuckled, reaching up to remove his mask so that he too could wipe away his tears of happiness. Christine noticed that he only turned away briefly, as he was still not completely used to exposing his face in public. "But, are _you_ truly pleased by this? I worry that you only allowed this to happen because you felt the need to fulfill the ridiculous demands I set forth in the contract. Will becoming a mother make _you_ happy? Is it even something you wanted in your life? For though I promise to aid you in every way possible, you are the one who will have to carry, and birth, it." He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the inside of her palm and wrist. "Please say this is what you wish, for I could not live with myself if you are unhappy."

"Oh, Erik," she whispered, a sweet smile coming to her lips. "I'm beyond happy! Thrilled even! And here I was worried that _you_ didn't want a baby."

"Then we were both concerned over nothing?" Erik asked, a feeling of deep relief washing over him at this knowledge. "That is good, since it would appear a child _is_ coming, and we have only a few short months to prepare."

"A few short months? How long do you imagine it takes to have a baby, Erik?" she questioned, looking at him as if he had lost his mind. "It will be at the very least eight more months until it arrives, and to me, that's a very long time to have to wait."

"Yet, I am to understand that the time will fly by," Erik assured her. "And with so much to do and get ready, it will go even faster."

"I suppose…but just think," she began, taking his hand and laying it over her stomach. "There is new life growing right there…our son or daughter."

"I am to be… _a father_!" Erik muttered, his eyes glazing over as new tears began to form. "This is not something I ever dreamed would happen for me, Christine…not until _you_ came into my life." He leaned down and placed his lips where their hands lay entwined, blessing his child with its first kiss. He then whispered a promise, one that left Christine in tears as well. "I cannot wait to meet you, my dearest one…but for now, you must grow strong inside your mother, and I will see that she is cared for and protected with every ounce of strength I possess. Of this I swear."

.

.

"So…how long do you think we should give them?" Amir asked, having already returned from the commissary to wait outside the door. Susan and Charles had joined him, and all three were getting rather tired of standing out in the hallway. "I mean, they could be doing heaven knows what in there."

"You hush!" Susan hissed, chastising the Persian. She then covertly pointed at Charles, whose eyes were glued on the closed door, mouthing the words, "Not in front of her father!"

"Oh, right," he said sheepishly. "My apologies, Mr. Daaé." He then leaned over towards Susan and said in a low whisper, "But given the fact that there is a bed in there, I'm just saying…they _are_ quite the amorous couple."

"Pervert!" she laughed, slapping his arm in a playful manner. "Now go sit over there and mind your manners. We will wait as long as it takes."

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Thankfully, it was only another ten minutes before Erik and Christine emerged from the room, both still grinning from ear to ear. Having replaced his mask, it was more difficult for them to see that Erik had been crying, but the signs were evident on Christine…yet no one doubted that they had been tears of joy.

"Congratulations once again!" Susan said, giving Christine a warm hug. And to everyone's surprise, she bestowed the same upon Erik, causing even Amir's eyes to grow wide with shock. "This is the best news possible. Now Charles will have even more reason to continue recovering, for who wouldn't want to hold their first grandchild?"

"Yes, Papa," Christine nodded, kneeling down as she looked into her father's eyes. "I want you to be there when this little one is born, pacing outside the delivery room and ready to hand out bubblegum cigars. And with the way you've been progressing…I have no doubt you will be. Do you promise?"

 _Ding, ding,_ came the answer she had been hoping for.

"Thank you, Papa!" she squealed, hugging him tightly. "I love you so much."

 _Ding, ding, ding, ding,_ Charles replied, blinking back his own set of tears now.

"That means he loves you too," Susan quickly interpreted, though in truth, there was no reason for her to do so…Christine understood all too well.

"Christine, I think we should go find Dr. Mills and get the names of those doctors he was recommending, and then head home," Erik suggested, gently helping her to her feet. "You have had a very busy day, and from now on, it is my duty to see that you get plenty of rest, nutritious food, and are pampered in every way possible."

"Oh, good grief," she muttered, rolling her eyes – yet her wide smile remained. "You're not going to become one of those overprotective husbands who calls the doctor every time I sneeze, are you?" She then let out a happy laugh. "Oh, wait…you already are!"

"And you deserve nothing less, my angel," he insisted, leaning down to place a kiss on her lips. "I love you, and our child, so very much."

"And I love you," Christine responded.

After they said their farewells to Susan and Charles, and Amir was given Christine's keys so he could drive her SUV home, Erik and Christine went in search of Dr. Mills – walking down the hallway, arm in arm.

"Your daughter looks very happy, Charles," Susan said, leaning down beside his right ear. "And just look at how he dotes on her, as if she were a priceless diamond. That's love in its purest form, no doubt about it. Christine found herself a fine man, don't you agree?"

There was a moment of silence, and then Charles gave his answer.

 _Ding, ding._

 _._

 _._

Meanwhile, across town, sitting at his desk, Raoul Chaney groaned as another stack of reports were placed in front of him.

"Sorry, pal," the suited agent said, giving him an apologetic look. "But we've all been in your shoes, paying our dues, and waiting for that promotion." He patted him on the shoulder as he left. "Your day will come."

"Well, it better come soon!" he huffed. Then he looked over at the lovely photo on his desk, the smiling face of Meg instantly cheering him. At least he had his pretty ballerina, and that seemed to make everything worthwhile. He was anxious to take the field agent's exam, which would not only be an elevation in status, but in pay as well.

Perhaps by then, he and Meg's relationship would have progressed even farther, and the extra money might be put towards an engagement ring. Oh, Raoul knew it was far too soon for anything like that, but when he was alone, he found himself imagining what it would be like to pop the question. Would he get down on one knee? Surprise her by putting the ring in her glass of champagne? Or do something over the top, like proposing on a hot air balloon ride? Well, he had plenty of time to think about it…and when the opportunity came, he really hoped that Meg would say yes.

Shaking his head, he did his best to put his lady love out of his mind and concentrate on his work, knowing that if he didn't get these reports entered and filed, he would not be going home anytime soon. Yet when he picked up the first page, his eyes grew wide as he read what was written there.

 _Surveillance report._

 _Subject: Erik Thorn_

 _Suspected associate of Joseph De'Rossi – confirmed member of the NY mob._

Oh, this was perfect! Providence had handed him a gift disguised as work, and Raoul was not about to let it slip through his fingers. Sifting through the stack, he found every piece of information he could that related to Erik Thorn or Joseph De'Rossi, and began to devour it with eager eyes.

 _"I've got you now, Thorn!"_ he muttered, a sly determined smile crossing his lips.

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That night, after dinner - having been thoroughly congratulated by an overjoyed Mrs. Murphy - Erik and Christine sat on the sofa in the entertainment room, her head resting on a pillow in his lap, while his fingers sifting through her hair lovingly.

"Do you want a son or a daughter?" she asked, loving the feeling of his gentle ministrations.

"Yes," was his distracted reply.

"What? No, you have to pick one or the other," she laughed.

"Why? For no matter what I chose, the sex has already been determined, so it would make no difference to voice a preference," he reasoned.

"I know, but it's still fun to _try_ and guess," she told him. "I'm shocked that you and Amir haven't already bet a hundred dollars on which one it will be!"

"That Persian would not dare to make a wager on such an important thing as _my_ child!" he said.

"Fine…I won't ask you to choose," she said with a bit of a sigh.

"It is not that I do not care…just that I could not _possibly_ pick one over the other!" Erik stated, leaning down to place a kiss on her forehead. "For I would be equally delighted with either, just so long as you and the baby are both healthy and happy, I will never have a reason for complaint."

"Nor shall I," she said with a loving smile. "Still, we _will_ eventually have to think about names," Christine reminded him. "And decide if we want to find what we are having ahead of time…or wait till the birth."

"Those _are_ valid points," he agreed. "Yet, we do not need to address them now. At this very moment, all we should concern ourselves with is how happy we are. Not to mention how privileged I am to have you, and our little one, in my life."

"Just as we are to have you in ours," Christine assured him, loving how easily the word _we_ rolled off her tongue. For the idea that they were going to be parents was finally starting to sink in…and it made her feel wonderful.

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A week later, Christine felt horrible! The mild queasiness had turned into full-blown morning sickness and instead of snuggling with her husband in the mornings, like she wished to, she would be forced to bolt from the bed and rush to the restroom. Erik was never far behind, crouching beside her, holding her hair and rubbing her back gently as he spoke soothing words. Then when the urge to vomit at last subsided, he would sit on the floor and hold Christine close, wiping her brow and face with a cool cloth. He really was the most considerate husband.

Erik quickly discovered that leaving Christine home alone had become very difficult, his feelings of panic and fear over her safety having suddenly shot through the roof. And if Amir had found him insufferable before, he suddenly had no idea what to do with his friend now.

"You _do_ realize that one or two other women on this planet _have_ become pregnant and given birth before, right?" the Persian told him with a sigh of exasperation. "Christine is not the first to do so, nor, do I suspect, will she be the last."

"But she's _my_ wife, and this is _my_ child!" Erik answered sternly, as if the difference should be plain as day.

"Yes, yes, I know, you just want what's best for them," Amir nodded, able to understand Erik's motives, if not his over the top actions. "If you can't trust me to watch over her here at the house…you could always bring her with you and she can hang out in your apartment downstairs. That way she'll be close by…and I can spend some more time with Antoinette." This idea brought a smile to the Persian's face, yet a frown to Erik's.

"Then I will get no work out of either of you," he huffed. Still, the idea of having Christine close by did appeal to him. He would have to see what she thought about this, not wishing for her to feel smothered or like he was hovering.

When he broached the subject to her, she seemed genuinely open to the suggestion…however, the first day they were to implement his plan, Christine's morning sickness prevented her from leaving their room, let alone the house. Thus, the notion of her coming to Phantom Industries was scuttled for the time being.

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.

They had indeed researched the credentials of several doctors from the list that Mills had given them, at last settling on an Ob/Gyn that pleased not only Christine, but miraculously, Erik as well. The initial checkup proved enlightening, with their doctor, Jennifer Brooks, informing them that Christine was just under four weeks along, with the estimated due date around February seventeenth. She then set Christine up with a regiment of vitamins, a list of foods to eat, as well as others to avoid, and a date for their next appointment. A large book entitled "What to Expect When Expecting" was also added to the list, and the happy couple found great enjoyment reading several pages each night before bed. Christine couldn't have been happier about the closeness this was fostering in the two of them, their love and desire for each other blossoming into one of true family bliss.

Amir stayed close by, often coming in to check on Christine several times a day. Along with Erik's texts, and Mrs. Murphy fussing over her like a mother hen, the expectant mother was very well taken care of.

She was now into her official eighth week, and though there were still no outward signs of her pregnancy, at least the morning sickness had subsided somewhat, leaving Christine feeling much more her normal self. Thus, when Amir dropped in, he was concerned to find her sitting on the couch, rubbing her stomach with a worried expression on her face.

"Christine?" he asked, coming over to sit beside her, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Is everything all right?"

"Oh...yes," she smiled up at him. "The baby's fine, no worries. I was just thinking."

"About what? You look troubled," he pointed out.

"I was just thinking that this little one will have a wonderful grandfather, and can learn all about its grandmother from us as well…but that's it," she said in a sad voice. "It won't know anything about Erik's side of the family…not even the name of its grandparents."

"Erik and I have searched for that information quite thoroughly, but to no avail," Amir nodded in understanding. "I simply don't believe it's in the cards for him to know about his parentage."

"But it's not fair!" she fussed. "Everyone should know where they came from, who their family is…their history." Christine looked up at him with desperate need in her eyes. "Isn't there anything more we can do? Something you haven't tried, an agency that might help us learn the truth?"

"We've tried everything we could think of, Christine, there's simply no more that…" Here Amir paused, his brows furrowing together as if considering something he had not thought about before. "Well…now that you mention it, there is _one_ thing we haven't tried." He admitted.

"Oh…what's that?" Christine asked excitedly.

"Ummm, probably best I not say anything, just in case it turns out to be a dead end," he told her. "And I wouldn't mention any of this to Erik if I were you, you know how sensitive he is about his past and all."

"If you say so," she nodded, willing to agree to anything if it meant helping her husband discover the secrets of his past.

"I do," he nodded firmly. "But I promise to do all I can to help your little one know more about his other set of grandparents."

"Erik is very lucky to have you in his life," she told him, leaning over and laying her head on his shoulder. "And so are we." Here she patted her stomach, indicating her baby as well.

"I thank you for the sentiment," he told her sincerely. "But don't you go getting any crazy ideas, I'm still not changing any diapers!"

"Oh, you!" she said, giving his arm a swat as they both broke out into laughter.

* * *

 **So, it is confirmed. There will be a baby!**

 **Hope you enjoyed Erik finding out, as well as him assuring her that he was completely happy about the idea.**

 **Oh crap...Raoul is still dogging Erik and eager to take him down.**

 **Wonder what Amir has up his sleeve...hmmmm.**

 **And WHAT...Amir won't change diapers? FIRE HIM! ha ha.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Bleaky:** Yes, it is BAD. Don't do it. I can't stress enough that it is very wrong to throw your phone. Hold it tight, treat it nice, all will be well. ha ha. Yes, I do have to end on cliffies...SOME of the time. But not today! And you were right, she is in the motherly way.

 **Kristin:** Well, as you can see, Erik had more than forgotten about that stipulation in the contract. Since he only put it there to guarantee sex. ha ha. but he's very happy, no worries. A and A are a lot of fun, they are perfect for each other. Meg will be back, no worries, but not in this one. Sorry.

 **GuestWraithSnake:** Well, that WAS a very detailed explanation, I must say. But good for you for creating a whole new species for your story. That takes time, thought and talent. And coming up with all those specific details was great, gives them more 'life' and not just a one dimensional feel. I'm sure all the details aid in the story too, helping you know where you are going with things and how your WraithSnakes react in certain situations. Good job. Charles IS warming up to Erik I think...and Amir and Antoinette will make a wonderful family one day...with Meg getting her new daddy at last. No, I don't want any legal issues with my stories, that is also the reason I name the Persian Amir and not Nadir, since Susan Kay came up with that name and it belongs to her. Leroux only called him The Persian, so he never had a name till she gave him one. Yep, there's gunna be a baby, but Erik didn't faint, ha ha. He might have wanted to though. Christine did a fine job with her sexy outfit right? And this time, Erik didn't have to hold himself back. Glad you like Maestro as his nick name. It fits. Thanks.

 **Guest:** Yep...baby for sure! Yay! Thanks.

 **Cayla:** Well, I think I just did. ha ha. YES, she is. Poor Charles, but I think he is pretty happy now. Yes, I think that Erik and Charles could for sure bond over their worry and concern for Christine. ha ha. Oh, I'm sure if Erik writes a show, then he will make room for Meg. He does think she's a great dancer, even if she tends to irritate him from time to time. ha ha. She's just too bubbly for his dark and moody ways. Hope you liked the chapter. Thanks


	58. Chapter 58

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 **Well, now that we know they ARE having a kid...let's see how they deal with the idea. ha ha.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 58**

 **~X~**

* * *

Erik paced back and forth in the examining room at the doctor's office, both nervous and excited about this particular milestone. It had now been ten weeks since conception, and today they would get to hear the baby's heartbeat… something the two of them had been quite eager for. Thus far, Christine's stomach had remained flat, giving no physical signs of a child growing within, and to have some form of proof that their baby actually existed would do both the nervous parents some good.

Christine was sitting on the little examining table, waiting patiently, and doing her best to calm Erik down. She found it adorable how concerned he was over her and their baby, but his pacing was starting to get on her nerves.

"Sit down, Erik, before you wear a hole in the floor," she teased, causing him to comply with her wishes, taking a seat nearby, and reaching out to hold her hand. She wasn't sure if he was trying to reassure her…or him, by the action.

"What time is it?" he asked, giving a huff.

"Five minutes later than the last time you asked," she replied.

"Shouldn't the doctor be in by now?" Erik questioned irritably.

"The nurse said she was running about fifteen minutes late due to an emergency walk in," Christine reminded him. "Just be patient."

"Easy for you to say," he grumbled looking around the room distractedly.

"Oh, right…because it's not as if _I'm_ the one who's pregnant," she said in a teasing voice, watching as his head whipped back around and stared at her apologetically.

"Forgive me, my dear," he begged. "I…I am simply nervous."

"About what?" she questioned. She had noticed that Erik had been a bit more on edge lately, but chalked it up to normal fatherly concerns. Was there more to it than met the eye?

"I know that I told you I had my DNA checked several times in the past, making sure that my deformity could not be passed on to our child," he began, hanging his head, unwilling to make eye contact. "Yet what if they are wrong? What if our baby is born with my…face? It would destroy me to know I was the cause of such a thing…that I was to blame."

"Oh, Erik," Christine moaned, sliding off the table and coming over to sit on her husband's lap, wrapping her arms around him gently. "Don't even think that way. I love you just the way you are, and should our little one have an abnormality of any kind, you know I will love it as well. I promise. I'm so sorry you grew up with no one there to love you unconditionally…but I swear I will never love our child any less, for any reason!"

"Really?" Erik asked, looking at her with hope in his eyes. "I am just so afraid…of losing you, or your love."

"Never! We've made it this far, haven't we? And under rather unusual circumstances, I might add," she told him with a smile. "So, let's not start second guessing each other now, shall we?"

"No, we shall not," he nodded, feeling a little bit better. He then wrapped his own arms around her and gave Christine a big hug, soothed by the warmth of her body and radiating love.

Just then the door opened, and in walked Dr. Brooks, smiling brightly when she saw the way the two were seated.

"You know, this is the kind of behavior that got you in this condition in the first place," she joked, watching as Christine scrambled off of Erik's lap, the two of them looking rather embarrassed. "It's nice to see couples so much in love. Sad to say, many of my patients are forced to come to these appointments alone. I'm glad you are here, Mr. Thorn."

"I would not be anywhere else," he told her firmly, a bit of pride in his voice at being complimented on his husbandly actions.

"Then, how about we check out your baby's heartbeat?" the doctor smiled. "Hop up on the table, Christine and lift your shirt just a bit so I can get to your stomach."

Christine did as she was told, lying back against the pillow and pulling her shirt-tail up just below her breasts. Dr. Brooks then squeezed a bit of warm lubricant on her abdomen and began to rub a little device that looked like a flat ended microphone over the area. Erik stood up and moved closer, holding onto Christine's hand as they waited anxiously…desperate to hear something. After an agonizing thirty seconds, and a bit of searching, an amazing sound filled the examination room…the sound of a steady little heartbeat.

"There we go," Dr. Brooks told them. "Your little one has a very strong and rhythmic heartbeat."

"That… _that's_ our baby?" Christine asked, the sound reminding her of a cross between a whooshing noise and a tiny machine. But she supposed it was, after all, a flesh and blood machine pumping blood to all its growing parts.

"And it sounds healthy?" Erik questioned, feeling Christine squeeze his hand in excitement.

"It sure does," the doctor assured them.

"I can't believe it, Erik…we made a new life!" Christine said, her eyes instantly filling with tears of joy. "Listen to it…it's the best sound in the world."

"It is, indeed," he agreed, his voice full of awe and wonder.

"And I will make a little CD recording of it for you to take home with you," the physician told them. "That way you can hear it whenever you want, and share it with family and friends."

"Thank you!" Christine said, excited to share such a thing with her father. "Can you tell if everything is going as it should? I mean, I looked it up online, and there were a lot of pictures of other women who were showing by now…but I can't tell any difference."

"Everyone is different, Christine," the doctor assured her. "And this is your first, so it's perfectly normal to be on the smaller side. You have to remember, right now your baby is only the size of a strawberry." She held her two fingers apart about an inch or two, demonstrating just how small that was. "But even that little, its organs are fully formed and starting to function. It has working arm joints, can kick and swallow, and even the baby's fingernails and hair are starting to become visible."

"Really?" this shocked Christine. "All that in the size of a little piece of fruit?"

"Amazing, isn't it?" Brooks laughed.

"Is…is there a way you can tell if there are any…well…abnormalities in the baby?" Erik questioned, a touch of fear in his eyes.

"There are several tests we can do over the next few weeks that can alert us to early signs of things like Down syndrome, Edward Syndrome, Patau Syndrome, and other chromosomal abnormalities. Would that be something you would be interested in?"

"Are the tests dangerous for Christine or the baby?" Erik instantly demanded.

"No, not at all, the NT scan and NIPT test are both completely non-invasive, requiring only a painless ultrasound and a simple blood sample." she assured him. "Now, please forgive me if I sound in any way rude, but may I inquire if your concerns have anything to do with the mask you wear, Mr. Thorn? It would help me to know exactly what it is I should be checking for."

Erik and Christine shared a quick look, silently agreeing that she needed to know.

"I have a very bad face deformity," he revealed, not daring to make eye contact with the physician. "I have had my DNA checked several times to make sure it was not genetic…but I know there is always room for mistakes. I wish to make sure my child will not inherit such a thing from me."

"I see," Brooks nodded, her expression one of understanding and compassion. "Then with your permission, I will schedule the tests to be done as soon as possible, and hopefully this will alleviate any fears, Mr. Thorn. This should be a time of excitement and planning…not one of worry." She then removed the wand from Christine's stomach, causing the wonderful sound to disappear, the two parents instantly missing its rhythmic cadence. "Now, don't be surprised if certain smells, or foods start to become offensive to you, Christine. That is a normal part of pregnancy. As is feeling tired, unusually emotional, and unfortunately, irritable. Just remember, it will more than likely be the fault of your changing hormones…not your husband. So, cut him some slack."

"I will," Christine laughed, giving Erik a sympathetic look.

After wiping off the gel, and having Christine put her shirt back down, the doctor went through a few of the routine exams usually done at checkup, including blood pressure, weight, and her own heart rate. When everything came back just fine, the doctor bid them farewell, assuring that someone would soon be in touch about scheduling the other tests they had talked about.

Thus it was, that Erik and Christine left with smiles on their faces, and a little CD in their hands…and the knowledge that their baby was doing just fine.

.

.

"You know," Erik stated, once they got home. "The book says that we need to start thinking about a room for the baby."

"Oh, I think he or she is quite content with the room they have now," she laughed, patting her tummy lovingly.

"I have no doubt," Erik agreed, his eyes alight with love. "Yet, at some point, our little one will outgrow its current accommodations and wish for something more spacious. Do you have any ideas on that subject?

"Ummmm, not really," she said with an apologetic shrug. "Do you?"

"Indeed," he nodded, taking her by the hand and leading her upstairs to their bedroom. "I was thinking, it will need a room of its own eventually, but until then, I would feel much better keeping it close by."

"You want to have it sleep here in our room?" she questioned, a bit torn on the notion. While the idea that she could wake at any moment and check on it was important, Christine was a little reluctant to have the baby in the same room with them…especially if they decided to be intimate.

"No…not _within_ our room, but right next door," he continued, walking over to her bathroom and pushing open the door. "If you are willing to forgo your private bathroom and share with me, we could easily convert this into a very lovely nursery, complete with a washing station, thanks to the built-in plumbing."

"Oh, Erik, that's a wonderful idea!" Christine squealed, instantly loving his suggestion. "Then the baby will be close by, but we will still have our privacy!"

"I can see you and I are thinking along the same lines," he grinned, stepping up behind her and wrapping his arms around her in a loving manner. "And…perhaps now that your morning sickness has subsided, we might be able to resume certain activities that require the privacy you spoke about?" Over the past several weeks, any time Christine had tried to engage in intimacy, her stomach would not allow it. Causing Erik to insist that they abstain from such things until her condition improved.

"Shall we test the waters, so to speak, and give it a try?" Christine asked, liking the sound of that very much.

"My thoughts exactly," he grinned, lifting her up into his arms and carrying her to the bed. His mask was the first article of clothing he removed…but it certainly wasn't the last.

.

.

A couple days later, Erik took Christine back in for the blood tests, the two of them quite anxious to get the results back as quickly as possible. He did his best to keep his spirits up, even taking his wife out for ice cream afterwards for being such a brave girl, but Erik couldn't help but feel the knot in his gut tightening as he imagined all the horrible things that could go wrong. Still, like Christine had said, they should not go borrowing trouble, and attempt to put it out of their minds until they knew something for sure. And while he agreed with her…it was difficult for him to do.

That night, Christine had Meg over for some girl time, the two having been so busy lately that they hadn't been able to hang out. Erik made himself scares, heading off to the music room to compose while they clucked like a couple of hens.

"A baby! I'm so excited for you, Chris!" Meg gushed, giving her friend what was probably the tenth hug since she arrived.

"We're pretty excited ourselves," she laughed. "But it feels like forever before we will get to meet him or her."

"What do you want? A boy or a girl?" she demanded, though continued on before Christine could even answer. "A boy would be nice, since then Erik could teach him all kinds of boy stuff, like how to throw a football, or drive one of his fancy cars…or pee standing up. You know, man stuff."

"Yes, those _would_ be important things for a boy to learn," Christine laughed.

"But then a girl would be fun too," Meg persisted. "You could fix her hair and dress her up in all those frilly outfits…and I, as her young and fun aunt, can introduce her to make up in a few years!"

" _Quite a few_ , if you please," Christine said firmly.

"Either way, you are going to have a ton of fun with this bundle of joy!" she concluded. "And I will be right there when it's born. In the waiting room, of course, because the idea of watching someone have a baby grosses me out, but I'll be there in spirit. I promise."

"Thank you Meg, I appreciate your support," Christine just loved her friend's way of wording things, not to mention the hysterical facial expressions she got when saying them.

"Hey, what's a best friend for?" Meg grinned. "Now…whatcha got to eat around here that's low fat? I'm starving!"

.

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The following day, Amir pressed the button for the thirteenth floor at Phantom Industries, releasing a long drawn out sigh of irritation. He had left Gerald and Mrs. Murphy at home to care for Christine, and drove all the way into the city, because Antoinette had called, worried over Erik and one of his rather angry moods.

"I don't know what's gotten into him, today," she told Amir. "He got a call, threw a fit, and then stormed down to his apartment hours ago. I'm worried about him."

"Yah…join the club," Amir had huffed. "I'll be down as soon as possible.

So here he was, unsure what had poked the bear, and a bit afraid of what he might find once he got there. When the elevator door opened, thanks to the private code he had entered, the Persian immediately knew what Erik was up to. The sound of metal clanking against metal, and the heavy grunts of exertion told Amir exactly where to find his friend…at his workout area. So exiting the elevator, he strode around a few of the partitions, until he found him.

Erik had stripped down to his pants, his bare chest covered in sweat from lifting the heavy weights. His mask was lying on the floor beside the bench-press, and he looked nowhere near having worked off his anger or frustrations.

"So…what's got you in a snit?" Amir asked, leaning against the wall and staring at Erik.

"Not now!" Erik grunted out, extending his arms several more times as the heavy weights went up and down.

"You know, doing that alone without a spotter is highly dangerous," Amir continued, ignoring his friend's warning. "You could become trapped, crush your chest, or have that fall on your throat and crush it, not to mention you could…"

"ENOUGH!" Erik yelled, placing the bar on the holders above his head before sitting up and glaring at the Persian. "If you are anything like how a mother behaves, I am quite glad I never had one!" He stood up and grabbed a nearby towel, mopping the sweat from his face and chest before taking a long drink from a bottle nearby. "Why are you even here?"

"Antoinette called, she said you took off in a rage, and have been holed up here all afternoon," Amir told him. "And don't worry, Gerald and Mrs. Murphy are with Christine, she's fine." He was silent for a few more minutes. "So are you going to tell me what's the matter, or did I drive all this way for nothing?"

"No one asked you to come, did they?" Erik barked.

"Antoinette did," he reasoned.

"Well, she doesn't count!" he huffed, striding over and sitting down in a comfortable chair, the white towel slung over his neck.

"She does with me," Amir grinned, not allowing Erik's bad mood to rub off on him. "And in so many wonderful ways. Now, unless you want me to start extolling each and every one of her virtues to you…you best start talking."

"Please no!" Erik moaned, but at last giving in to the Persian's persistence. "Fine…I got a call today, from De'Rossi."

"Yikes…enough said," he nodded, also taking a seat in one of the chairs. "No, wait, I changed my mind, I need more information. What's he want you to do now?"

"He said they are stepping up production, and will need me to be more _hands on_ in the future," Erik related.

"Well, that's good…right? Faster production means we get what we want sooner," Amir pointed out.

"With more time spent away from Christine!" Erik growled. "And now with the baby, that's the last thing I want! Why did I ever agree to this lunacy anyway? De'Rossi and the others are all a bunch of filthy bottom-feeders…and I hate working with them."

"It won't be forever," Amir said with a sigh. "And remember…you are doing this for Christine. For your future with her, never forget that."

"I keep reminding myself…but it doesn't seem to help," Erik sighed. "And I keep worrying that she might one day discover what I am doing and come to hate me…or worse, leave."

"Then we just need to keep her in the dark," he said firmly. "I hate lying to Christine just as much as you do…and to Antoinette as well. But what else can we do? They can't become involved in any of this."

"NO! Never!" Erik agreed.

"Then buck up, quit acting like a four year old and get your sorry ass back to work," Amir ordered. "The more often you pitch a fit like this, the more suspicious you appear."

"Have I told you lately how much I loathe you at times?" Erik asked, his eyes narrowing on his friend.

"Not lately, no…but it's a hard thing to forget," Amir said with a sigh, rising to his feet and heading for the elevator. "And take a shower before you head back upstairs. You stink."

Erik could think of a few things he wanted to say in reply, but before he could open his mouth to speak, Amir was gone.

"Damn insufferable Persian!" Erik fumed, standing up and heading for his bathroom.

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.

"Where are you going?" Christine asked the following Monday night, her lip sticking out in an adorable pout, making leaving twice as hard for Erik to bear. "I thought we could snuggle on the couch and watch TV tonight."

"I am very sorry, my dear, but I have a business meeting tonight," he told her, leaning in to give her a kiss on the forehead.

"But it's after hours!" she protested. "Why do you have to work in the evening?"

"It was the only time these clients could meet. Do not worry though, Gerald will be nearby, if you need anything, or get scared, just text him and he will be here in mere moments."

"Does that mean Amir is going with you?" she questioned, walking behind him as he headed for the door. "You know, if I wasn't so confident of your love for me, I would worry you and he were having an affair."

Erik stopped in his tracks, whirling around with a mixture of shock and disgust in his eyes.

"Christine! How could you even think such a thing?" he gasped. "I could do so much better than Amir!" His lips then turned up into a playful smile.

This had Christine laughing, which was what Erik had been going for. He stepped over to her and cuddled her in his arms.

"I promise that tomorrow night it will be just you, me, and any movie you choose," he told her, leaning in for a long and lingering kiss. "And, to make up for abandoning you tonight, I left a little gift for you upstairs on the bed."

"You did?" Christine asked, her expression brightening just a bit. "Is it something to eat?"

"No, it is not food," Erik laughed, knowing that her appetite had increased over the past few weeks, mostly leaning towards breads and sweets. "It is something for the baby. Now, give me a smile, for I don't think I could stand it if I left you sad."

"I'll be just fine," she assured him. "I'll miss you, but you are an important man, and I must share you with the world."

"But to me, you are the most important thing there is…never forget that," he then reached down and placed a hand over her stomach. "You and little Jr. here." They had agreed that calling the baby an 'it' was rather demeaning, so they settled on Jr. figuring that was a nice neutral sounding title.

"Now get going, so that you can be home all the quicker," Christine told him with a wide smile.

"I will," he agreed, grabbing his keys and heading for the garage.

Once Erik's taillights had faded into the darkness, Christine hurried upstairs, eager to see what her husband had left. He was always buying her gifts and things, but thankfully, she had managed to get it through his head that she didn't want expensive items…just sentimental things. When she saw the little box on the comforter, she smiled, thankful that it was not one of those oversized stuffed bears she'd seen in the window at FAO Schwartz. Opening the lid, she pulled back the tissue paper and found something that melted her heart. It was a little yellow onesie, with a little piano stitched on the front. The words around it read _"I'm the music of Mommy and Daddy's heart."_

"Oh, Erik!" she gasped out loud, hugging the little item to her chest. It was perfect, and she suddenly couldn't wait to see their child wearing it. She reached down and laid it over her stomach. "Still a bit big for our little strawberry, but one day…one day it will fit you perfectly!"

She then laid it in a place of honor on their bed, loving how it looked. In about 26 weeks, their baby would be lying there for real, and the thought brought a tear to Christine's eyes. Blowing it a little kiss, and then rubbing her stomach happily, she headed back downstairs to find herself something to eat. Yes, she had already had dinner…but this was for the baby, she told herself. Yes… _the baby_ was hungry!

.

.

Across town, Erik and Amir sat at a large table in the back of some filthy warehouse, the florescent lights overhead only aggravating his growing headache. He had sat through nearly an hour of listing to mind-numbing deals, delivery schedules and other pointless matters, wondering why in the world he had needed to be present at all.

"And you, Thorn…how are things going on your end?" De'Rossi asked, turning his attention to Erik at last.

"Everything is on schedule, deliveries are set, and the customs agents have been paid off," Erik assured him. "No need to worry about anything."

"Good, good," Joseph nodded, visibly pleased to hear this. "I knew you would be a fine asset to our little operation."

Just then, the door at the end of the warehouse burst open and in came three of De'Rossi's thugs…and they didn't look happy.

"What are you doing here?" Joseph yelled, rising from his chair. "You're supposed to be guarding the goods at the dock!"

"There's no goods to guard, boss!" a man known as Jack replied. "The Feds got to it first! It had barely been unloaded and here they came, like a swarm of bees, sirens blaring and guns waving. We barely made it out of there without being caught."

"DAMN!" De'Rossi hollered, pounding his fist on the table in rage. "That blasted Chaney! It had to be him again!" When he heard Erik give a slight snort of humor to his left, he glared at him angrily. "Something funny about all this, Thorn?"

"Not about the shipment," Erik said, leaning back in his chair and answering calmly. "But I do find it amusing that you and I both seem to be having trouble with FBI agents with the last name Chaney."

"Oh, that's right…the director has a younger brother, doesn't he?" Joseph nodded. "I recall you saying he was an old school chum of your wife…is he still trying to make time with her?"

"I think I effectively put an end to _that_ ," Erik said in a rather proud tone.

"Well I believe it is high time I do the same to Phil Chaney," De'Rossi grumbled. "How about we send a message those damn Feds won't soon forget. And I know just the thing."

"What do you have in mind?" Erik asked, sitting up straight, as if the idea intrigued him.

"A little car bomb is always a nice calling card," the man chuckled. Picking up his phone he dialed a number, waiting a moment for someone to answer. When they did, Joseph didn't bother mincing words. "I have a job for you. I need you to work your magic on Philippe Chaney's car…tonight. Be sure he goes up in flames when he leaves his office tonight, got it? Good. Let me know when the job is done." He then hung up and grinned wickedly. "A bit messy perhaps, but rather effective." Looking around the room, he noticed that some of the other men's faces had gone white with fear, causing De'Rossi to eye them skeptically. "Does anyone have a problem with that?" When everyone shook their heads, he turned to Erik. "How about you, Thorn?"

"None at all," he answered, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest with a deadly smile. "In fact, I might even be willing to offer you a little incentive, if you can take out his brother, Raoul, at the same time."

.

.

Christine had busied herself as best as she could, having watched two movies, made herself a snack, and was now just randomly flipping channels. She was getting rather bored being home all alone, and looking at the clock she was a bit shocked to see it was nearly midnight! How long did a business meeting take? _Maybe she should be worried that Erik was stepping out on her_ , Christine thought with a laugh.

She was just about to shut the television off and go up to read in bed when something on the screen caught her attention. It took a few seconds for her mind to realize that the man being interviewed was none other than Philippe Chaney, Raoul's older brother! But the reason she didn't recognize him immediately was because the man appeared uncharacteristically disheveled, with a bandage on his cheek and scratches on his hands, not to mention a look of pure hatred in his eyes. Grabbing the remote, she turned up the volume, listening to what he was saying.

 _"Tonight was just another heinous example of the war we are waging against organized crime,"_ Phil Chaney told the reporter, who held a microphone in front of him, while fire trucks appeared to be mopping up something in the background. _"We know who's to blame for this, and I'm here to say that this will not stop me, or any other officers loyal to this city. A bomb being placed in my vehicle only means that we are getting close to eradicating the scum from our neighborhoods, and they are scared. I hope the ones who did this are out there watching right now."_ He then looked directly into the camera, gritting his teeth as he spoke. _"_ _We will find you. We will put an end to your organization and see that you are prosecuted to the furthest extent of the law. Justice will rule in this city, not you! On that you have my word!"_

Christine just sat there, staring at the screen as they panned to some static shots of the firetrucks, a burned out car, and several bystanders milling around. It was a horrible scene and her heart went out to Phil's wife, Rachel, just imagining what she must be going through, knowing someone had tried to kill her husband.

She gave a shiver of fear as she turned off the television and sat there in silence. Was this the kind of world her baby would be growing up in? Were criminals like whoever tried to murder Phil simply allowed to get away with such things? Christine wondered if Erik would be opposed to moving someplace safer…like…like…oh, she didn't know where, but there had to be someplace!

She then thought of Raoul, who was probably sick over what had happened to his brother…which next led her to thinking about Meg. Would her friend be able to handle things like this if she and Raoul did decide to make a go of it? To be forced to sit at home, wondering and worrying about the man she loved, never knowing if he would come home alive each night? Christine didn't believe _she_ could do that, and was extremely grateful that Erik did not have the sort of job that put him in danger.

Still…she found herself wondering once again, what _was_ keeping Erik out so late?

* * *

 **Oh my stars and garters! What is Erik involved in? Whatever it is, it does not sound good...or healthy for the Chaney brothers.**

 **And I have the internet to thank for all that baby information, about size, what's going on, and those long test names they are having done. It sounded important, so I tossed it in to help Erik feel better.**

 **How did you like the Amir and Erik conversation? They are such fun to write for. ha ha.**

 **And did anyone go awwww when they saw the gift Erik got for Christine?**

 **Now...I do wonder what IS keeping Erik out so late? Guess we will find out Friday. ha ha.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **GuestWraithSnake:** It is hard to do original things, mostly because I need to be inspired to write. But I do have several original stories in my mind, but just have never had the ambition to put them down on paper. Oh well. And I think that Amir and Annie would not be upset with just a family of two. IF they ever get around to doing more than holding hands and kissing. ha ha. Nope, I did not let Erik faint...he just does not seem the type to do so. Freak out, yes. Fly off the handle, of course. Turn moody and silent, all the time. Faint...no. I HAD planned on her calling him Don Juan as a name, but then as I was writing it, Maestro came into my head (him being called that many times in books and TV movies mostly) and I switched it up in a heartbeat. Love it when inspiration strikes like lightning. ha ha. A baby is going to be a fun addition...after the appropriate amount of time. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Kristin:** Charles IS warming up to Erik...but things are still a bit frosty. They are both very happy about the news of a baby. Yes, it very much goes against what Phil told him...to NOT stick his nose in where it might get shot off...but does he listen? Noooooooo. Thanks.

 **Guest:** That was FOUR babies you said...I don't think they are having that many! ha ha. They will indeed be great parents. Erik might not be the wisest when it comes to romance, but even HE knew better than to say "Hey, I am going to write in this stipulation about having a kid...but I really only want your body, so...yah." Fear not, The SS Raoul won't sink your happy little ship. He might damage it, but I only do happy endings, so he's of no major concern. Yes, what IS Amir thinking? Guess we will have to keep reading to find out. Well, you will...I already know. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Cayal:** Yep, no fooling you...it's a baby! Between Erik, Christine, Amir, Antoinette, Meg, Charles and Gerald...you better believe this baby will be well cared for. ha ha. And Erik's Billions don't hurt either. Erik does freak out well, doesn't he? Awwww, that's nice that you are so worried about Charles. He's working hard on getting better, he really is. Raoul is clueless...he thinks he's dealing with lobsters, not mobsters. ha ha. You know what...It very well MIGHT be against the law for him to be on the case...but if you recall, Phil told him to stay away from it. Maybe that's why! You have every right to take him to court, or tell Phil...or just make a citizen's arrest! But maybe wait a little bit first, I have some things I still need Raoul to do, so hang tight. Thanks!


	59. Chapter 59

.

 **Posting a few hours early again...I want to sleep in tomorrow morning.**

.

 **Sorry many of you are upset with Erik...well, I am too! I told him not to get mixed up with those guys, but did he listen? NO! Not one little bit. Well, honey, if you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas! Let that be a lesson to you!**

 **Now let's go see if he can dig himself out of all this...or fall further in.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 59**

 **~X~**

* * *

Erik gave a sharp hiss as Amir brought the Jaguar to a quick stop, jerking him against the seat-belt.

"Sorry…I'm just not used to driving a stick these days," he apologized, shutting off the engine and turning in his seat to look at his friend.

"If I had known you were going to do such a lousy job, I would have driven home myself," Erik said through gritted teeth.

"Not in the shape you're in, you wouldn't," he pointed out, nodding to the bright red stain on Erik's shirt, beneath the cloth he held over it to stop the bleeding. "Are you sure you don't want me to take you to a hospital?"

"And just announce to every cop in town that I was involved in what happened tonight?" Erik scoffed, unbuckling himself with a cringe. "No, I will be fine…just get me inside and up to bed."

"You know, that might require some stitches," Amir stated.

"Great, just what I need…another hideous scar, compliments of your atrocious sewing skills," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"You could always ask Christine to do it," the Persian retorted, giving Erik a cross look.

"Christine," Erik groaned. "And how exactly am I going to explain _this_ to her? She believes we were at a business meeting."

"I think I have an idea about that," Amir told him, pulling on the door handle and exiting the car. "Wait here!"

"Where else would I be going?" Erik mumbled, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the seat.

In just a few minutes, Amir was back, holding an open beer bottle in his hand.

"Take a few drinks of this," he instructed, holding out the beverage.

"This cheap beer is not going to dull my pain," Erik scoffed.

"No, it's your cover," Amir explained. "We'll tell Christine that after the meeting, a few of the clients wanted to take us out for drinks. You then got drunk, became involved in a bar fight, and someone cut you with a broken beer bottle."

"And you think Christine will buy _that_ load of nonsense?" Even Erik would have had a hard time swallowing such a terrible lie.

"Depends on how well you sell it," Amir said with a shrug. "You got any better ideas?"

"Plenty of them…but none that fit _this_ situation," he admitted with a sigh, bringing the bottle to his lips and taking several big gulps. When he handed it back, Erik did not look happy. "That brand tastes horrible!"

"I know…I bought it on sale, but after one sip, I swore never to go cheap again," Amir nodded.

"If you knew it was terrible, why did you make me drink it?" Erik fumed.

"I wasn't going to waste a good beer on a ruse," he said indignantly, tipping the bottle a bit as he splashed some of the liquid on Erik's clothes.

"HEY! This is Armani!" Erik protested, trying to wipe it off with his free hand.

"The suit is covered in blood, Erik, do you honestly think a bit of beer is going to make a difference?" Amir was beginning to become fed up with his friend's attitude. Sick or injured Erik was not a fun person to be around, and the Persian would be more than happy to turn his care over to Christine…if they could convince her their lie was the truth. "Now, come on, let's get you inside."

.

.

Christine had just shut off the television and put her bowl of popcorn in the kitchen, when she heard the front door open and close. Hurrying out, she was all prepared to greet her husband with a hug and a kiss, but those plans died when she saw the state of the two men in the foyer.

"Erik! What happened?" she cried, rushing to his side - the one that was not already leaning heavily against Amir. However, when she got close, the smell of the alcohol wafting off of him made her pull back, her stomach instantly growing queasy. "Have you been drinking?" Her eyes narrowed. "Are you… _drunk_?"

"Of course not, Chrissstine," Erik stated, though he purposefully slurred his words. "I might be a bit inebriated…but I am not drunk!"

"Nope, not you," Amir laughed, playing his part as well. "Snockered, yes…hammered, perhaps…tipsy, most definitely. But never drunk."

"See, even Amir agrees," Erik stated matter of factly.

"But how…why?" she questioned, still unable to get very close to him. "And…WHAT IS THAT?" Here she pointed at the red stain on his shirt, her eyes growing wide with fear. "ERIK! YOU'RE BLEEDING!"

"Just a little flesh wound…hardly serious," Erik told her, waving it off as if it were nothing. "A souvenir from a little brawl. But you should see the other guy!"

"WHAT?" Christine was not the least bit placated by his answer.

"How about we get this sorry sod upstairs and taken care of, and then we can tell you the whole story?" Amir suggested, getting rather tired of holding Erik up.

"Yes…of course," she nodded, taking a deep breath before coming to his side and helping Amir steer him towards the stairs.

.

.

It took a bit longer than usual to arrive at their room, and Christine was only seconds away from losing the snack she had just eaten, due to the overpowering odor of beer. She had never liked the stuff herself, and apparently their baby didn't either. Grabbing a thick blanket out of the linen closet, she threw it over the bed, hoping to protect it from both blood and the smell of alcohol. But the moment Erik was sitting down, no longer in need of her support, Christine instantly excused herself and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. When Erik heard the sound of her vomiting, he felt even worse. Not only was he lying to his wife, he had made her ill as well.

"It's better than her knowing the truth," Amir told him, as if reading his friend's mind.

"Is it?" Erik challenged.

"It's safer," was the Persian's reply.

Erik could only nod in agreement at that, allowing Amir to aid him in removing his jacket and shirt. The stained garments were tossed into the laundry basket, most likely only fit to be destroyed.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Christine called from behind the bathroom door after a few minutes.

"No…it's best you stay away until he's cleaned up a bit," Amir told her. "But if you have a pan in there, I could use some warm water and a few washcloths."

"I'll get them!" she answered. A minute later she pushed a shallow tub and a stack of towels out through the door. "How's that?"

"Perfect, thanks," Amir said, retrieving them and getting to work on cleaning up Erik's wound. "You know, it doesn't look all _that_ bad," he informed Erik in a low voice, making sure their conversation was kept between them alone. "It might not need any stitches after all, just some gauze and a bandage to keep it clean. Now, where's your first aid kit?"

"In my bathroom, under the sink," he instructed, looking down at the two-inch gash in his side. Amir's suggestion to pass it off as a cut from a beer bottle might just work. For apparently, a wound caused by flying hot metal from an exploding car looked surprisingly like something you would get in a bar fight.

"How are you doing, Erik?" came Christine's voice from the other room. "Are you all right?"

"I will be, as soon as Amir bandages me up," he assured her. "Do not worry, it will upset the baby."

"Too late for that," she informed him with a huff.

When Amir returned, he made quick work of patching Erik up, handing him a few antibiotic pills to swallow, in hopes that no infection set in. He then helped his wounded friend to his feet so he could remove his trousers, slip into a pair of pajama bottoms, and then crawl into bed. Thankfully, other than his breath, most of the beer smell had left with his clothes, which Amir kindly took care of by moving the hamper into the bathroom and shutting the door.

"I think it's safe to come out now, Christine," Amir called, watching as she peeked her head around the door, sniffing the air cautiously.

"Is he all right?" she asked, hurrying over to the side of the bed, once she was sure her stomach could handle things. "Shouldn't he go see a doctor?"

"Naaahh," Amir said with a shake of his head. "It was just a scratch, hardly worth putting a bandage on. He'll be fine."

"But what happened?" Christine demanded to know. "You were supposed to be at a business meeting! What kind of business were you conducting?"

"Oh, the meeting went fine," Amir lied smoothly, seeing that Erik was reluctant to answer. "It was when we went out to a bar afterwards, that things got a little dicey."

"Why on earth did you do that?" she demanded, not appearing pleased at all.

"Often one must _entertain_ a client, not simply offer them a deal. It's called schmoozing," was the Persian's further explanation. "And while we were there, someone said something about Erik's mask, and then one thing led to another, followed by the man taking a swing at him with a broken beer bottle…and well, I think you can guess the rest."

"Oh, Erik!" Christine sat down on the side of the bed and ran her fingers through his hair gently. "You're going to be a father soon, you can't go around getting in fights! This is too dangerous! Promise me that you won't do anything like this again…no matter what someone says to you."

"Yes, Christine," Erik nodded, doing his best to say as little as possible. It was bad enough that Amir was deceiving her, but he knew it would make him sick to his stomach if he flat out lied to her face. "I can promise you that I will _not_ be doing something like _this_ ever again."

"There, it's all settled," Amir said with a smile. "He's fine, you're fine, and no one's mad at anyone. I say this is where I take my leave and let you both get some sleep." And with a little salute, Amir was out the door and gone.

This left Erik alone with Christine, now worried she might interrogate him further, forcing him to lie. Thankfully, his wife seemed content with Amir's explanation, and only asked him questions about how he was feeling and if he needed anything. When his answers appeared to satisfy her, Christine decided that sleep was the best thing for him at the moment, tucking him in carefully before removing his mask and kissing him on the forehead.

She quickly dressed for bed herself and slipped in beside him, careful not to jostle the mattress or touch him in any way that might cause pain. In the end, they simply held hands beneath the covers, both drawing strength from each other.

It was enough.

.

.

The following morning Christine was quite insistent that Erik remain home in bed, but he would have none of that, flat out refusing as he got up and readied himself for work. The last thing he should do after the previous night's fiasco was show any sign of weakness or injury, otherwise his guilt would be evident. No, he would show up for work as usual, even if it killed him.

He knew Christine was angry over this fact, and that worried him greatly, for the last thing he wanted to do was further upset his pregnant wife. But what else could he do?

"I will be fine, Christine," Erik assured her. "And if I feel at all tired or in pain, I promise to come home immediately."

"Will you? Honest?" she asked, looking up at him with concern.

"With such a caring and protective wife here waiting for me…nothing could keep me away," he told her, leaning down to kiss her lips. "And I am very sorry for scaring you last night. It was a foolish thing to do, and I have learned my lesson."

"Good," she nodded. "Now get going, before I change my mind and lock you away in the bedroom all day."

"If I believed your intention for doing so was to have your way with me, and not to simply make me rest, I might take you up on that," he laughed, heading out the door and to his car.

.

.

Christine busied herself making the bed and straightening up so that Janet wouldn't have to do it when she came to clean. She stopped for a moment to text Amir, telling him of her plans to visit her father in about an hour – giving her bodyguard the heads up. While she had the phone in her hand, Christine decided to text Raoul as well, and ask how his brother was doing. Though she and Phil had never been close, he had always been kind to her, and had seemed rather pleasant when they ran into each other at the ball. It was the considerate thing to do, after all, asking about a friend's well-being.

Locating his number in her phone, she sent off a quick text, trying to keep things as light and non-committal as possible.

 _*Raoul, I heard about your brother last night on the news. I do hope he is truly all right. I'm sure that you and Rachel are taking good care of him. Give him my best. Christine.*_

She hit send and put her phone down, heading for Erik's bathroom to retrieve the hamper that Amir had placed in there the night before. She had just taken a deep breath, fearing the smell of the beer soaked items, when her phone made a little buzz. Exhaling, she turned and picked it up.

"Well, that's strange," she muttered, reading the message on her screen.

 _*I think you have the wrong number. No one here by the name of Raoul.*_

"Maybe I logged it in wrong?" she said with a shrug. Going to her purse, she dug around until she found the card he had originally given her, crumpled at the bottom. Smoothing it out, she found that the numbers did indeed not match, prompting her to correct her mistake. Once that was done, she re-sent her original message.

This time Christine did make it into Erik's bathroom, retrieved the soiled clothing and was checking to see if the suit he wore the previous night was salvageable, when her phone buzzed again. Yet when she read the message, she was even more confused.

 _*Dare I believe it's actually Christine speaking this time? Otherwise, your show of concern is in rather poor taste, Thorn.*_

"What?" Christine muttered, shocked by his strange reply. "What is going on here?" Not bothering to text back, she hit the call button, certain that some odd misunderstanding was taking place. When his phone picked up, she spoke first. "Raoul, what was _that_ all about? Of course I'm concerned about Phil, why wouldn't I be? And why would you believe it was anyone but me texting…especially Erik?"

"Oh…hello Christine," he replied, sounding rather sheepish. "I just thought…well, that…oh, never mind," he said with a sigh. Obviously, her husband had not bothered to tell her about his little rendezvous with him in the parking garage, big surprise there. And while Raoul would like nothing more than to fill Christine in on what took place…he had no proof. Besides, if word of it got around to Phil, well, there would be hell to pay. So, he reluctantly let it drop. "I'm sorry, I just got confused is all…it's been a rather harrowing night."

"I bet!" she told him, instantly forgiving him for the odd message. "I can't imagine how you are all dealing with such a thing. Phil looked pretty banged up on the television last night. Is he all right?"

"Cuts and bruises mostly, and maybe a cracked rib, but otherwise, he'll survive," Raoul assured her. "Rachel's the one who took it the hardest, and went into labor when she heard. Thankfully the baby was due next week, so it wasn't born too early or anything."

"Oh, I'm so glad to hear that!" Christine truly felt bad for the poor woman, and now being pregnant herself, she could sympathize. "Was it a girl or a boy?"

"A girl this time, so that made them both really happy," Raoul told her, his voice brightening for the first time since he answered. "They named her Emma Sue."

"That's lovely! I'm sure she's adorable," Christine smiled. "Babies are wonderful."

"Umm…yah, and I hear congratulations are in order for you as well," he said, once more sounding a bit hesitant. "So, you're having his baby, huh?"

"Well, that _is_ what husbands and wives do from time to time," she teased, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm very excited, but nervous as well. Not sure I know _how_ to be a mom. I mean, my dad did a great job raising me, but I sure miss not having a mother myself right about now."

"Aww, Christine," Raoul's tone was instantly comforting. "You'll be a great mom, no doubt about it. That kid is lucky to have you. I mean it."

"Thanks Raoul, that's nice of you to say," she smiled. He really was a very sweet guy. "Well, I better go, I plan to go visit with my father for a bit today."

"I'm sure he appreciates it. I would offer to go see him myself, but I'm willing to bet I'm still not on his list of favorite people," he gave a guilty laugh, but then he sobered. "Hey, you said you saw the interview Phil did on TV last night…what did your husband happen to think about it?"

"Erik? Well, I don't think he knows anything about it actually, he was out till past midnight," she told him, not seeing anything wrong with telling him this. She did decide not to mention the getting drunk and getting into a bar fight part however.

"Really? Out late, you say," came his strange response. "Interesting. Well, have a nice day, Christine, and I'll pass along your concerns for Phil. As well as your congratulations for the baby. Bye." And then he hung up.

"Well…that was a bit odd," she said with a shrug of her shoulders, setting her phone down and returning to her job of organizing the laundry. Christine picked up the dark suit, and wrinkled her nose at the odor coming from it. What had Erik been drinking that smelled so foul? When she got to his shirt, and saw the blood on it, she decided to just toss it away, it being both ripped and stained. Yet before she made it across the room to the garbage, her extra sensitive nose picked up a rather odd smell. Leaning in, she sniffed at the collar, pulling back as she encountered a strong sulfur smell. "This reminds me of the fourth of July," she mumbled, taking another sniff. Yes, it was exactly like the odor in the air after an explosion of fireworks. Christine froze… _explosion?_ As in a car bomb?

Her knees grew weak, and she had to quickly sit down on the bench at the end of their bed, a million thoughts racing through her mind. But no, _it couldn't be!_ There was no way Erik would have been involved in something like that. And for what reason? Sure, he didn't like Raoul, and he said he didn't care for Phil either, but is that any reason to do the man harm? Christine began to laugh at the lunacy of the whole idea. She was just being silly. Pregnancy brain, as they called it, right? Erik had been out with clients, he got in a bar fight, and that was that.

Christine rose to her feet, still chuckling at herself, and tossed the shirt into the garbage before taking the rest of the items down to the laundry room. She figured that Janet would know better if his suit was salvageable or not.

"Christine, you do come up with the craziest ideas," she chided herself, grabbing her keys and heading out the door, intent on visiting her father.

.

.

Amir, ever her vigilant watchdog, accompanied her there, taking up his usual spot in the waiting area. Over the past several weeks her father had been making more and more progress, his therapy working wonders in helping him improve. He was now able to make small movements with his arms and legs, turn his head ever so slightly and even display a lopsided smile…or frown, depending on how he was feeling at the time. Most of his muscles had atrophied so much over the past year that Dr. Mills said it would take a while before they could hope to have him walking again. He also warned her that though her father was doing very well, there was always the slim chance that he would not make a full one-hundred percent recovery. But Christine refused to dwell on the negative, her father was improving and that was enough for her.

Today she had decided it was time to bring her father a surprise, and she clutched his violin case close to her chest as she went, a bright smile on her face. Yet when she reached the door to his room, she froze…what was that sound? The longer she stood there, the more it became clear that the noise was coming from him! It was a low hum, not exactly a song, but she could detect definite highs and lows, as if he were warming up his vocal cords as singers did prior to performing.

"Papa?" Christine gasped, rushing in and circling around to face him. "Are…are you _humming_?"

In response, Charles' lips twitched upwards into what Christine had come to recognize as a smile. His finger tapping on the little pad, making a _ding, ding_ sound.

"YOU ARE!" she cried, laying the violin down and giving him a big hug. "That's wonderful! Soon you'll be talking again, Papa!"

"He sure will," Susan agreed, coming into the room with a vase of fresh cut flowers in her hands. "He's been practicing at this for a day or so, in hopes of being better at it when he at last chose to show you. I think he has pretty good pitch too…not that I'm a music critic or anything." She winked at Christine. "While you, on the other hand...are marvelous!"

"Well, just wait till you hear him play for you!" Christine boasted, reaching out and unlatching the clips on the violin case, removing the beloved instrument and placing it in her father's lap. "You've never heard music until my father has played _this_ for you! His rendition of Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto will bring you to tears." She watched as her father's head bent slightly to gaze up on his old friend longingly. Reaching out, Christine lifted his hand and positioned it so he could caress the strings with reverence. With a great deal of effort, he managed to pluck at it a few times, the sounds it created bringing an even brighter smile to his lips. "And just think, Papa…soon you'll be playing it again, just like before!"

After allowing him to hold it a bit longer, Christine placed it back in its case and propped it up on a shelf near his bed, where he could look at it anytime he wanted. It would be a huge incentive for him to keep getting better, just so he could return to his former craft.

They talked for about an hour more, with Charles spelling out words with Christine's help, asking about her health and that of his grandchild. He smiled in understanding as she told him about her strange cravings, and the desire to eat everything in sight.

"I swear, Papa, with as much as I've been scarfing down lately, I'm shocked I don't look more like the Michelin Tire man!" Christine laughed, yet secretly she couldn't wait to start showing.

.

.

Later, when Christine arrived home, she was surprised to find Erik already there, but figured it had a lot to do with what he had been through the previous night.

"Are you feeling all right?" she questioned, eyeing him carefully for any signs of fatigue or pain.

"Just a bit sore," he assured her, leaning down to give her kiss. "How was your father today?"

"Great! In fact, he's humming now!" Christine squealed, eager to share her wonderful news.

"Excellent! He is a medical marvel, it would seem," Erik agreed. "Dr. Mills could write a paper on his progress and be widely published for his contributions to medicine."

"He can do whatever he wants, just as long as my father keeps getting better!" Christine laughed, allowing him to lead her into the sun room, where they sat on the sofa, staring out at the beautiful back yard.

It was then that Christine saw a little box on the coffee table.

"What's this?" she asked, reaching out and picking it up.

"A gift for you," he answered, smiling quite smugly.

"Erik…you have to stop!" she chided him. "I'll never be able to catch up, let alone break even, in the gift giving department!"

"That is the beauty of gifts, Christine," Erik told her with a wide smile. "When they come from the heart, they never require repayment. In fact, I would be highly offended if you tried. You simply say thank you, and accept it with grace."

"You're so very right, Maestro," Christine laughed, loving his logic. "Thank you very much for the gift."

"You are most welcome," he nodded, happy that now saw things his way.

"So…is it edible?" she asked, giving he box a little shake.

"Perhaps," Erik chuckled.

"Can I open it?" Christine pressed, her excitement level having just went up a few notches.

"Yes, you may open it," he nodded.

Lifting the lid on the box, Christine's expression went from elated to confused as she stared at the contents.

"A lime?" she asked, looking up at him curiously. "Are you thinking of doing tequila shots? If so, you'll be doing them alone, Mister, since I won't be touching a drop of alcohol for the next several months."

"No, my silly little wife," Erik said, tapping her gently on the nose with his finger. "Tomorrow is your eleventh week of pregnancy, and according to the web-page I found today, this is how big our baby is right now. The size of a Key lime."

Christine reached in and lifted the little fruit from the box, cradling it in her palm with eyes filled with wonder.

"It was only the size of a strawberry last week…now it's as big as this lime?" she whispered, loving the fact that she had a visual reference to see and hold.

"Yes, though I seriously doubt it is exactly _that_ shape or color," he grinned, reaching out and running his fingers over the surface of the sour citrus.

"Well, I should hope not!" she giggled, bringing it up to her lips as she gave it a little kiss. "But no matter what, we will love every inch of it!"

"Yes…yes we will," Erik smiled, overjoyed to hear his wife say such things. It truly put his mind at ease, for he would never want his child to experience the loneliness and rejection he had grown up with. _Never!_

"This is very sweet," she told him, snuggling in closer as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in.

Yet when his hand touched her stomach, he stilled, his fingers tracing over her abdomen gently.

"Christine…I think you have grown," he said in an excited voice. "I believe you have a little bump right here."

"What?" she gasped, wiggling from his arms and racing over to the mirror in the hall, lifting her shirt up a bit so she could see her stomach from a sideways angle. A wild squeal of joy quickly followed, telling Erik that he had indeed been correct. "I can see the baby! Well, a baby bump anyway, but I can see it!"

Erik, who had followed at a slower pace due to his injury, approached from behind and wrapped his arms around her, laying his chin on her shoulder as he stared at their reflection lovingly. Erik had never been a fan of mirrors, and yet, with Christine standing with him…he didn't mind so terribly much.

"You are beauty itself," he told her, kissing her neck. "And I have to admit, the idea that you are currently carrying _my_ child, only makes me want you more."

"Is that even possible?" she laughed, reaching up with her hand to touch his masked cheek tenderly. "We already do it enough that we put rabbits to shame."

"I could never get enough of you, my love," Erik assured her, turning her around so that she was now facing him, his arms never letting her go. "And if you would care to join me upstairs…I will prove it to you."

"Now? Before dinner?" she gasped, pretending to be scandalized. She then sobered, stepping back and eyeing his side. "But, you're hurt. Perhaps we should wait a day or so, just to be safe."

"In a day or so I would be dead from being denied the pleasures of your body," Erik moaned, bringing his lips down as he let them graze across her jawline, and down her neck. "From missing your kisses, your touch, and the way you make me feel every time you look at me. As if I were a normal man."

"Oh, trust me, Mr. Thorn, you are _anything_ but normal," Christine smiled, reaching up to remove his mask, and placing a dozen kisses all over his face. "In fact, I would say you are extraordinary!"

"Am I now?" he chuckled, feeling his manly pride swell at her words. "Then allow me to prove that I can live up to your expectations, my wife." And without another word, he led her up the stairs and to their bedroom…not even caring that Mrs. Murphy was just pulling into the driveway, arriving right on time to prepare dinner..

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 **Hmmmmm, NOW what is Erik up to? Doesn't want the police finding out he is injured huh? Look too suspicious? Interesting.**

 **Well, looks like Raoul just got another tid-bit of information off of Christine there without her realizing it. What WILL he do with that?**

 **Charles is humming now! And he wants to play his violin.**

 **And Erik is very sweet with the fruit gifts - will Christine one day receive a watermelon?**

 **Erik is right, Christine...you don't keep track of who gave who what, or who gave who more. If the gift comes from the heart and done out of love, you just say thank you and accept it with a smile.**

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 **Guest Reviews:**

 **GuestRP:** Ummmm, well, isn't Erik KIND OF a bad guy? I mean in the play/book/movie he is not a saint, you know. But who knows, maybe he will redeem himself as the story continues. He hasn't done any lasting damage...so far. I do not think Erik is French Royalty...but you never now! DANG, you do NOT want Antoinette mad at you Erik, you really, really don't! Glad you liked all of Erik's sweetness before everything just went crazy. ha ha. We do love seeing our Erik flustered, right? He's so cute that way. Ummmm, no other way to draw blood than I know of...unless you do it with a knife or sword. ha ha. Erik just doesn't like the idea of anyone harming his precious wife. He gets a bit unreasonable that way. Too bad you can't order an Erik on Amazon. I would even be willing to pay shipping! MI6? Do you think he is working for Max Smart? ha ha. He was in Persia because he was a paid spy for bad guys...his sad misspent youth. *sigh*

 **Kristin:** I agree, getting the Chaney brothers all dead would only be a short-lived satisfaction for you, Erik. In the long run, Christine would not thank you for it! His dislike of De'Rossi sure hasn't stopped him from working with him though. Glad you liked his onesie gift...he can be rather sweet at times.

 **Guest:** Yep...or it could go really, really good just as fast. But the way things look right now, more than likely bad. Sorry.

 **Cayla:** Yep, baby is doing fine. As to if it will inherit anything from Erik...let's just hope its his temper or his musical abilities. ha ha. Amir does know just how to deflate Erik's ego and put him in his place...just as any older brother should . Christine can do it as well...but usually with a kiss or something much sweeter. Wow...went from Team Erik to Team Raoul in one chapter? Dang, girl. If this was an olden days story, and he had been the chief assassin for the Shah, you would have been fine with that, but I let him express interest in killing one or two measly FBI agents and suddenly he the bag guy? Talk about double standards! ha ha ha ha, I'm only kidding, Erik is soooooo in the dog house!ha ha. As for Christine, and how she might feel about all this...well...time will tell. I am very happy you are 'invested' and thank you very much for your continued reviews.

 **GuestWraithSnake:** Ok...I'm confused. You say there is too much mush...but you want Amir and Annie to hurry up and move things along? Wouldn't that mean MORE mush? ha ha. Well they will take things at their own pace...but the drama is here, so the mush is kind of pushed to the side...sort of. ha ha. Don Juan is nice too, but I prefer Maestro...and so does Erik. I think if the baby came early, Erik would flip a gizzard! He would instantly build a prenatal care wing just for his child. ha ha. Glad your friend is doing so well after having an early start. She must have been as impatient as Erik. ha ha. Thanks!


	60. Chapter 60

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 **Attention Readers.**

I have officially finished this story! 70 chapters worth!

Thus, to reward you all for your kind reviews, and for being patient with me - as well as forgiving when I left you hanging on cliffs - **I will be posting a chapter each day until it is all done.** Ten days...ten chapters. **  
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Now, as a favor to me, please do not forget to leave a review for each one, for I truly would love to hear what you thought about things.

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And if you still hold a snippet card, or two...or six...you might want to think about spending them before this is all over and done with.

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 **Chapter 60**

 **~X~**

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Later, after dinner, Erik and Christine retired to the entertainment room, allowing him to work at his desk while she flipped through channels, looking for something to watch. Yet, when she shut it off and turned to lean over the back of the sofa, Erik paused in his work and looked at her curiously.

"I…I sort of forgot to tell you something," she informed him. "And, well…you might not exactly be tickled when you hear this, but…"

"Simply tell me what is bothering you," he nodded, noting her look of concern. "You know you can speak to me about anything."

"Yes…well, did you hear about what happened to Phil Chaney last night?" she began.

"Phil Chaney?" Erik responded, schooling his expression immediately. "I cannot say that I have. What happened?"

"He was nearly blown up…by a car bomb!" she informed him. "I saw it on the news last night before you and Amir came home. I forgot to mention it in all the excitement of getting you patched up."

"That is indeed regrettable," he nodded, doing his best to sound surprised, and sympathetic. "Yet you say he survived?"

"Yes, but he looked really beat up during the interview," she continued. "I was very worried about him."

"That is understandable," Erik replied. "Now see, that was not so difficult. I have no idea why you felt I would be upset with you."

"Well, that's not all," she confessed. "Today I thought, you know, since I kind of know the family and all, that I should send them my regards. So…I tried to text Raoul." Here she paused, waiting for Erik to become angry, but to her shock, he didn't appear upset at all! In fact, if she were pressed, she could almost swear she saw him smile a bit over the news. How odd.

"Did you now?" he asked, inwardly laughing at the fact that the wretched boy more than likely did not get the message – since he had changed his number in Christine's phone. "Even though I am never pleased to hear you interacting with your former boyfriend, I can understand your inclination to do so. That was very thoughtful."

"Yes…well, for some reason, the text didn't seem to go through, and when I finally figured out why, and fixed the issue, Raoul responded so very strangely…that I decided to call him," she was not about to hide anything, it had all been innocent, so she had no reason to feel guilty.

"You…you _called_ him? How were you able to do that?" Erik stammered, sitting up straight in his chair.

"I still had his card in my purse," Christine explained, narrowing her eyes at his very suspicious choice of words. "Might you have any idea why Raoul's number was entered incorrectly in my phone, Erik?"

"What exactly did you two discuss?" he demanded, purposefully ignoring her last question.

"Nothing much. We of course talked about Phil, and how he was doing. Oh, and he told me that Rachel went into labor when she heard the news," Christine informed him. She didn't like the way Erik was suddenly being so evasive. "It was a little girl, if you'd like to know…both mother and daughter doing fine."

"Good…good," he said, rather dismissively. "What else did you two speak about?"

"What else _was_ there to say? I told Raoul how sorry I was this happened, and asked him to convey my get-well wishes to Phil, not to mention my congratulations on their new daughter." She leveled her eyes on him, watching his expression very closely. "Erik…what's going on? Why the third degree here?"

"I…I simply do not like that boy trying to engage you in needless conversation," he huffed, grabbing his pen and focusing on his papers, doing his best to convey the fact that he wished the conversation to be over. Yet, after a few moments, Christine spoke again, telling him she did not get the message.

"Erik, what kind of bar did you take those clients to last night?" she asked, her tone now low and hesitant.

"Why, do you wish to visit there yourself?" he replied rather flippantly, not even bothering to look up at her.

"No…I just wondered what the name of it was," Christine pressed. "Was it the kind of bar where they serve those fancy drinks with fruit and sparklers in them?"

"What?" Erik looked up at this question, finding it completely off the wall.

"Erik…the shirt you were wearing last night smelled like gun powder, or maybe sulfur, but very much like fireworks," she blurted out, standing up and circling around to stand beside him, looking down into his eyes from where he sat. "Why? Why would it smell like that?" Christine knew she was treading on thin ice, and maybe asking questions she didn't truly want the answers to…but the more evasive he was, the more suspicious she became.

"Christine…I think it's time for bed," he announced, standing up and facing her. "I believe you are overly tired, and your imagination is running away with you."

"NO! I want to know!" she demanded. "For once, just tell me the truth, Erik. I'll believe you…because I trust and love you. But it hurts me when you hide things from me, or refuse to answer my questions."

"And who says I'm hiding anything?" he growled, not enjoying this at all.

" _I_ DO…because it's as plain as day! Erik…please, just talk to me," she begged. "Help me understand." Christine was becoming frantic now, as if her whole world hinged on his willingness to do so.

"Bed time," he said sternly, stepping around his chair and heading for the door. "You need your rest."

"No! I NEED answers!" she yelled, grabbing the handful of papers on his desk and scanning them with her untrained eyes, completely unsure what she was even looking at.

Yet, apparently Erik did, and he did not want her to see it. Striding back over he ripped them from her grasp and threw them into his open briefcase on the desk, slamming the lid shut with a click.

"We had an agreement, Christine!" he hissed, a mixture of anger and fear in his tone. "Sometimes it is better that you do _not_ ask questions…and I forbid you to go snooping! For your own safety."

"But I'm your wife, Erik! We're having a child together…and I thought you loved me!" Christine sobbed, her emotions and hormones now completely off the charts. "But maybe I was wrong about that as well!" And without saying another word, she ran from the room, racing up the stairs to their bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

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Erik stood there in the entertainment room, staring at the door with a look of utter defeat. Things were becoming too complicated. He hated lying to her, and keeping her in the dark was growing more and more difficult by the day. Erik wanted Christine to trust him, to feel comfortable enough to speak about anything, but if he kept shooting her down, how was she supposed to?

Knowing he needed to make this right, though not sure how to go about it, he walked slowly up the stairs. When he reached their bedroom door, he was about to knock, but the sound of quiet sobs from within stopped him. Her tears pained him, and since he had no idea how to put an end to them…he lowered his arm and turned to leave. Once he made it to the music room, he reached into a small cabinet and pulled out a bottle of expensive brandy, taking a seat on his piano bench. Christine had once said that a married couple should never go to bed angry…but if he couldn't sleep beside Christine, Erik didn't want to sleep at all.

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Erik had stayed awake long into the night, drinking himself into a stupor until he at last succumbed to sleep, utilizing the sofa in the sun room as his makeshift bed. When he woke, thanks to the morning rays boring a hole in his head, he felt terrible. The last time he recalled having this bad of a hangover, was when Amir swore that he had participated in a Guitar Hero tournament with his Persian friend. Which, Erik swears to this day, never happened.

Staggering to his feet he did his best to focus on getting to the downstairs bathroom, in desperate need of several things. After taking care of the first, and most urgent one, he washed his face with cold water and downed several aspirins, hoping it would stop the pounding in his skull. He made a point to draw on this experience should he ever be required to pretend to be drunk again.

Now feeling a tad more refreshed, Erik looked at his watch, noticing the time. He let his gaze drift towards the stairs, wondering if he should attempt a reconciliation with Christine, but deciding that in his current condition, things would not go well. Maybe later, when he got home, he would be thinking more clearly. Yes, he would go to work, devise an ingenious plan, and then dazzle her with gifts, dinner, and delicious kisses until she melted into his arms, more than willing to forgive his asinine actions.

So, texting Gerald, he grabbed his wallet and keys, and headed for the door. It was going to be a very long and somewhat painful day, he could tell.

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Christine had obviously cried herself to sleep, finding herself still in her clothes as she woke suddenly to the sound of her phone ringing on the nightstand beside her. Reaching over she brushed the hair from her face and answered it as best she could. Her voice was a bit rough, but she managed to at least sound somewhat like herself.

"Hello?" she said

"May I speak to Christine Thorn?" the woman's voice asked on the other end.

"This is her," she responded.

"Well, hello, this is Dr. Jennifer Brooks, how are you doing today, Christine," she asked in a cheerful voice.

"I…um…fine, I think," she stammered, sitting up in bed and doing her best to focus. Why would her doctor be calling her? Had she missed an appointment?

"Excellent," Brooks continued. "I was just calling to tell you that I got your test results back from the lab this morning and I am happy to report that everything tested negative for abnormalities. It would appear that your child is completely healthy and showing no signs of inheriting any deformities or defects."

"Really?" Christine felt her eyes well up with tears once more, but this time out of pure joy. "That's wonderful! Thank you so much for calling!"

"I figured you and your husband might be worried, and I wanted to set your minds at ease as quickly as possible." It was more than obvious that the woman was grinning from ear to ear on the other end. "So, just take it easy, get plenty of rest, eat well, and make sure to squeeze in some light exercise, like walking, to keep yourself in shape. I'll see you in a few weeks for your next checkup."

"Yes…of course, thank you!" Christine would have agreed to anything at the moment, so completely overjoyed by the news. "I really appreciate you calling with the results, you truly made my day!"

"I'm glad," she laughed. "Goodbye for now." And then she hung up, leaving Christine staring at the phone in happy surprise.

"Did you hear that, Jr.?" she asked, quietly, rubbing at her stomach. "The doctor says you are fit as a fiddle! And it also appears you are hungry too," she laughed, hearing it give a loud grumble. "Why don't we go give your father the good news and find you some breakfast?"

Leaping out of bed, she hurried to the door, only to skid to a stop as she realized that if she had slept alone, Erik must still be upset with her. She hated the idea that they had fought, looking back and seeing what an idiot she had been for pressing him the way she had. Christine had all but accused him of trying to blow up Phil Chaney, and that was the most foolish idea in the world! Erik was secretive, moody, and had a bit of a temper, but he would never have done anything like that! She was sure of it!

"And news like this would be the perfect thing to break the ice and allow me to make amends," she told herself confidently, reaching for the door handle and heading downstairs. She called out his name, hoping he would answer her. When no response came, she continued her search, checking every room in the entire house, even the laundry room. When she had exhausted all her options, she forced herself to face the truth. _Erik_ _had left for work without even bothering to wake her!_

Christine didn't know if she was more hurt or angry over this. Had Erik not even _wanted_ to work things out? He could have stayed and talked with her! Then it dawned on her, he didn't _want_ to talk. Erik was keeping secrets from her that he refused to explain, and she had signed that blasted contract that allowed him to do so!

"Arrrrrgggg!" she seethed, storming into the sun room and flopping onto the sofa in aggravation. "How could I have been so stupid? If I mean anything to Erik besides what was so carefully laid out on paper, why would he be so adamant about keeping me in the dark? Husbands and wives share things! They talk! They don't just run off like this when the going gets hard! They trust each other and believe that at the end of the day, their love will conquer all…right?"

Yet it suddenly occurred to Christine that Erik didn't know any of this. He had been raised without love, without someone to believe in him, and he never learned that lesson. Hiding himself and his emotions had been the way he had survived while living on the streets, trusting no one. Thus how could she expect him to open up to her now, especially when she threw a fit and stormed out, effectively telling him that she was not to be trusted either.

No, it wasn't Erik who needed to be hearing all this…it was her! He was her husband. He deserved her faith. Yet, perhaps not blindly…he _would_ have to meet her halfway, showing the same amount of trust in her as well. And the moment Erik got home today, Christine would set him down, and very calmly explain all of this to him. Yes, that was exactly what she would do…right after she had a good long cry.

"Damn these hormones!" she sobbed, burying her face in the throw pillow.

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The day had indeed been a slow one, dragging on hour by hour. Thankfully, only a few employees had arrived as early as he, allowing him to slip into his former residence to shower and change. He felt better afterwards, but only on the outside, while his gut and heart remained in turmoil. Over the next several hours he threw himself into his work, hoping it would distract him from the fact that no matter how often he checked his phone…Christine had not texted him. _Phones worked both ways,_ he chided himself, realizing he could just as easily called or texted her…yet, Erik was too ashamed. He had let things get out of hand, and now Christine thought he did not love her, when that was the farthest thing from the truth. He was doing all of this because of her! For her, in fact…he just couldn't tell her anything about it.

Erik slammed his fist down on the desk, wishing that everyone else in the world would just go away, leaving him and Christine in peace. But, such things were not meant to be, highlighted by the annoying buzzing sound the phone on his desk just made.

"Yes?" Erik responded, knowing it was Elizabeth paging him from the reception area.

"There's someone here to see you, Mr. Thorn," she announced, sounding a bit uneasy.

"Tell them to go away, I am in no mood to see anyone," he growled, certain that if he spoke with anyone right now, he would rip their head off. Then he suddenly stopped, reaching back to push the button on his phone. "It is not Christine…is it?" She had surprised him before…dare he hope?

"No…no, it's a gentleman," Elizabeth said, plunging Erik back into despair. "He says it's urgent and that he will sit here all day if he must in order to see you."

"Does this bothersome person have a name?" Erik said with a heavy sigh.

There was a pause and then she spoke again.

"He…he says to tell you it's Morte, that you would know who that is," Elizabeth supplied. "What do you wish for me to do?"

 _Throw the vile buzzard down the elevator shaft,_ Erik thought to himself. But no, that would be counterproductive…though immensely enjoyable.

"Show him into the conference room in five minutes," Erik said at last, deciding that if he refused to see him, or accidentally killed the man, it would foster bad relations. "I will see him there."

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At five minutes on the dot, Elizabeth escorted the fellow into the conference room, Erik having already arrived there by way of his secret tunnel. He gestured for Morte to take a seat, and then nodded to his secretary, indicating that she should close the door behind her.

"Good of you to make time for me, and on such short notice, Thorn," the man said, leaning back in the comfortable leather seats. "Damn generous of you."

"Then try not to abuse my kind nature, and just tell me why you are here," Erik instructed, wanting him to simply get to the point.

"Yes, well, De'Rossi wanted me to deliver this message in person," he explained. "Didn't want to risk this information falling into the wrong hands should a call, letter, or text be intercepted."

"I am all ears," Erik told him, spreading out his hands as if welcoming the news.

"The meeting is going down tonight," Morte said, lowering his voice and leaning forward, his forearms resting on the long wooden table. "The idea is that with Chaney out recuperating, we have a chance to slip by him. The little bomb we planted might not have killed him, but at least it got him out of the way for a while. And we plan on using that time wisely. Everyone has been called in…by the Client."

"I did not think he ever came to the states." Suddenly Erik was very interested in what Morte had to say. "Something about extradition charges, and a life sentence he is attempting to avoid."

"Well, sometimes a man must see for himself how his business is being handled," the shorter man said with a shrug. "Anyway, he's called a meeting and wants everyone there. You are to be at the Southside docks, tonight at eight. Stay in your car and wait for instructions." He then stood to go.

"That is it?" Erik scoffed. "Nothing else?"

"That's all you need to know at the moment," Morte sneered. "Just be there…or you can consider yourself out of the game. Got it?"

"Of course," Erik replied, nodding his head gracefully, as he leaned back in his chair and watched the man leave the room. He was silent for a good minute, and then he spoke into the empty room. "Did you hear all that, Amir?"

"Sure did," came the Persian's voice over the intercom sitting in the middle of the table. "Every last word."

"Good," he nodded, drumming his fingers on the table as his mind began to race. This was it…what he'd been waiting for. Now, they only needed to finish the job and Erik would at last have exactly what he wanted. "Then get ready, my old friend…because it is show time."

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Christine had paced, and grumbled, and stewed all day, running over and over in her mind what she was going to say when Erik got home. She had even called Mrs. Murphy and told her to take the night off, figuring it would be best to handle their marital problems alone, and without the kindly cook for an audience. Yet try as she might, Christine had come up with nothing concrete to say…only wanting desperately to hold him and tell him of her love. She also wished to inform him about the good news the doctor had given her that morning, deciding that a text or phone call would hardly be appropriate for such wonderful information.

She had hoped that Amir might come over to check on her, knowing that at least he had not abandoned her for the day. Still, Christine had been reluctant to share their little spat with their Persian friend, for even if he could have offered some valuable insight…she didn't care to air their dirty laundry to anyone. What went on between a husband and a wife, should stay between only them. This was something she knew they could work through, and the last thing she wanted was for Amir to think badly of Erik for not immediately trying to reconcile. There would be plenty of time for that tonight. For she was not letting him slink off or sulk any longer.

So, there she sat, at the base of the stairs, waiting for him to come home. She had hoped he would arrive early, wishing to speak with her as much as she wanted to speak with him…but no. Christine was forced to sit there for nearly an hour…waiting.

When the clock struck six, and she heard the sound of the limo pulling up, she grew nervous. All this time sulking had done little to help her dream up the perfect words. Maybe she could let her lips…and hands…do the talking? Seducing her husband did not sound like a horrible idea, in fact, it had a lot of appeal. But her brain told her it would be best if they talked first…then rewarded themselves with an enjoyable roll in the hay, so to speak.

Christine rose to her feet, smoothed down her hair and quickly checked her breath…yes, minty fresh. However, anything she had hoped to say, or do, was quickly curtailed as both Erik and Amir came striding in together, the Persian obviously having been waiting for him the same as her.

"Tell Gerald to keep the car running, and that he will be needed for the rest of the night," Erik was saying, giving orders to Amir as the two men headed for the sun room. "We will be leaving as soon as I can gather my things. Are you prepared?" They were so engrossed in what they were saying that neither one noticed her until she cleared her throat.

"What's going on?" she questioned, causing both men to halt in their tracks. "Where are you going?"

"Christine," Erik said, stumbling over what to say next. "Amir and I need to go out for a bit, but I hope it will not take long."

"Leaving? NO!" she stated adamantly. "We need to talk, Erik…NOW!"

"It will have to wait, Christine," he said firmly, not having the time right now to deal with this properly. "I promise to give you my full attention tomorrow…all day in fact. Just please, not right now." He then turned back to Amir, quietly giving him a few more orders, before turning himself and heading into the entertainment room. The Persian gave Christine a sympathetic look, but left the room without saying a word, exiting the house the same way he had entered.

Christine was now furious. She had waited all day, worried and fretted, and now that Erik was home, he didn't have the time to speak with her? Oh, this was not to her liking at all.

"Erik!" she fumed, storming after him, watching as he was taking things out of his desk drawer and putting them in his pockets. "You can't be serious! I need to talk to you…right now, it's important."

"I am sure it is, Christine, but so is this," he told her, his jaw set in determination. "It must wait until I get home."

"Well…well maybe I won't _be_ here when you get home! Ever think of that?" she yelled, knowing she meant none of it, but at least this appeared to get his attention.

"What?" he gasped, his mind instantly racing to the worst case scenario. He would be leaving the house, and taking Amir and Gerald with him…leaving no one to guard Christine. He couldn't allow her to leave, not now, it wasn't safe! Stepping forward he took hold of her forearms and looked her directly in the eye. "No, you cannot leave, Christine, do you understand me? I forbid you to leave this house."

 _"You forbid?"_ she hissed, not at all understanding his command as a form of protection. "So…we are back to this, are we? You the master and me your prisoner? I honestly thought we were past that, Erik. And yet, here you are still dictating my every move!"

"Christine, you don't understand, you cannot leave…" he began eager to set her straight, but she was having none of it. Shaking off his hands, she stepped back, a look of utter betrayal on her face.

"Oh, right, the contract!" she raged. "I almost forgot about that, and the deal I made with the devil. That's right, Erik, I can't leave, can I? For if I even try, you will hunt me down, sue me for everything I'm worth and kick my father out of Leathwood and onto the streets!"

Erik was stunned. Is that what she still believed? That he would ever, in a million years, have gone through with any of those stipulations? Yet the look in her eyes revealed everything.

"Is that what you truly think of me, Christine? That I would treat you so callously…after all that's transpired between us?" he demanded, his heart and pride taking a serious hit at her accusation.

"Well…what am I supposed to think?" she asked, throwing up her hands in frustration. "You refuse to tell me things, you order me around, you won't listen to me, and now you're going to leave to go on some secret meeting! If you loved me, you would stay and talk…but if you go, I can only assume our marriage is nothing more than what is written on that horrible contract you had me sign!"

"You think I give a damn about that blasted contract?" Erik asked, the ire in his tone revealing his hatred for the offending piece of paper. "Well, let me show you just what I think of it!" Storming over to one of the walls, he pressed some hidden button besides a large painting, causing it to make a slight click and slide aside, revealing a wall safe.

 _See! He even hides things like that from me!_ Christine thought to herself. She watched in irritation as he spun the dial and opened it, removing something before slamming it shut behind him. Stepping towards her he held up the packet of pages, fisting them in his hand with no care that he was wrinkling them.

"Here is the original contract, Christine," he told her. "It is also the only copy, for no duplicates were ever made." Erik then reached over and flicked the switch on the wall that lit the gas fireplace, the flames springing to life with a cheery glow. And before she could even guess what his intentions were, he tossed the pages into the fire, allowing them to turn from white, to brown and then black, curling into fragile ash right before her eyes. "There, now you are free to do as you wish, Christine. You are no longer obligated by law to stay with me, nor will there be any form of reprisal should you choose to leave. You were never my prisoner, nor were you ever just the mother of my child…you are my whole life."

Erik was silent for a moment, as if waiting to see what she might do or say, but when she just continued to stare at him in shock he felt an icy fear grip his heart. Had he just made a fatal mistake? No, he would never have enforced the contract, but if that had been the only thing keeping her with him, he no longer had a leg to stand on. Would she now leave him? Had it all been a lie?

Amir's voice, calling from the front door broke the silence, reminding him of the urgency of the time. Erik had to leave. He had a meeting to get to, and if he was even a few minutes late, it could ruin all he had worked so hard to achieve over the past two months. And if that was the case…then it wouldn't matter if Christine left of her own accord, for she would undoubtedly be ripped from his side against her will. No…Erik had to leave, now!

Taking one last look at his beautiful bride, he did his best to memorize every inch of her…every hair, every freckle, every curve of her desirable body. Then, Erik walked towards the doorway, stopping at the last moment, though not turning around as he spoke.

"Please…please be here when I return," he begged, his tone desperate. And then he was gone, the sound of the front door closing seconds later telling her that her husband had left.

.

.

Christine was in complete shock. Erik had burned the contract. What did that mean? Racing to the front door she threw it open, his name on her lips, only to see the taillights of the limo and Amir's car disappearing down the driveway. She was too late. Why had he needed to leave so desperately that he couldn't spare her even a few more minutes to explain himself? Was this how her life was forever to be? Would she ever be included in his business and many secrets? Erik had always said it was for her protection, but if he kept this up, who would protect her heart?

Standing there for what felt like forever, she suddenly felt the need to leave. Not so much leave Erik…but leave the house, to find someone to help her figure things out. And the first person she thought of was her father. He would know what to do, he would give her the advice she needed!

So racing back into the house she grabbed her keys and purse, shoving her cell phone into her pocket and heading for her car. In moments she too was speeding down the long driveway, and on her way to Leathwood.

All the way there, she alternated between anger, hurt, and confusion, not knowing how she should feel. She loved Erik…that much she knew. But was love enough to overcome so many obstacles? It hadn't been for Antoinette and her jerk of a husband Roger. Would staying with Erik eventually end up the same way, with her fleeing with her child, desperate to avoid being sucked into whatever it was her husband kept hidden from her? Why were things never black and white? Why did things come in so many shades of grey?

When she arrived at Leathwood, she was forced to use her keycard, due to it being after normal visiting hours. And while there was no one at the reception desk to greet her, that suited Christine just fine. She was in no mood to talk to anyone but her father right now. At his door, she paused to knock, waiting for a voice to grant her admittance before entering. Stepping inside, she saw that it had been Jerome, her father's night time care taker, who had spoken, the large African American man just now removing an empty tray from before her father.

"Hello, Mrs. Thorn," he greeted pleasantly, giving her a warm smile. "You just missed dinner, but if you're hungry I'm sure I could request something from the kitchen for you."

"No…I'm fine, thank you," she assured him. "I…I was hoping I could talk with my father, in private."

"Of course, I'll take this back to the kitchen and leave you two alone," he nodded. "It was nice to see you again." And then he left, shutting the door behind him.

Christine walked over to where her father sat, his head and eyes following her every movement, somehow sensing that his daughter was upset. He waited for her to take a seat, but before he could gesture for her to help him spell out his many questions, she broke down and poured her heart out to him between sobs.

"Papa…I…I don't know what to do," she cried. "I love Erik, I really do, but he's hiding things from me. Things I don't understand and am afraid to ask about. And when I do ask, he shuts me down, tells me it's safer if I don't know and that only makes me worry more! He left again tonight, after we had a terrible argument, and I said things I didn't mean…but…but I'm at my wits end. Maybe it's baby hormones talking, but I feel like he's lying to me, deceiving me, and I'm not sure I can live like that, Papa. I don't know what to do. I'm so confused, and afraid…tell me what I should do. Please…help me, Papa." At this she slipped out of the chair, falling to her knees as she laid her head against the side of his legs, crying her eyes out as if she were a little girl again, seeking her father's love and guidance.

Christine wasn't sure what she had expected, but when she felt a shaky hand rest upon her head, slowly stroking her hair like he used to when she was a child, it made her shoulders shake even more, reaching up and laying her own hand over his, savoring the loving gesture. But what happened next shocked her to the core, for though it was very quiet, and somewhat raspy, Christine heard her father's voice for the first time in over six months.

"T-t-trust him, Chr-r-rist-t-ine," he stammered, though she could make out every word and it was music to her ears.

Slowly raising her head, she turned to stare at him with wide eyes.

"You…you spoke!" she gasped. She could see that he too had tears in his eyes, though there was that small lift at the corner of his lips that told her he was attempting to smile. "You actually spoke!"

"T-t-trust Erik," he said again, this time a tiny bit stronger. "Go h-h-home."

Christine was now torn between taking her father's advice immediately or staying to hear him speak some more. Yet she could see that those few little words had more than left the man winded and tired. He had expended a lot of effort to offer her these instructions, and she would not disrespect him by ignoring them. So, standing up, she wiped at her eyes, and leaned in to kiss his cheek lovingly. Then, giving him her very best smile, she walked confidently out of the room.

Christine passed Jerome in the hallway, giving him a friendly wave as she made her way towards the front entrance. Once she had made it out to her car and climbed inside, locking the doors before starting it up, she paused a moment, trying to put her emotions in order.

Erik had destroyed the contract. Christine was free…with nothing holding her to his house, to this life, or to him. Here she let a wide grin spread over her face. Nothing, that is, except her love, her marriage vows, and the child that currently grew within her. And suddenly Christine knew exactly what she was going to do. Her father had been right, she had to trust Erik! Wasn't that the foundation of a marriage, trust? Trust that their love would endure all hardships, that he would never intentionally hurt her, and that given time, he would eventually confide in her all his secrets…just as he did with what lay behind his mask. And because she loved him so entirely, there was no doubt in her mind that she was willing to give him her trust, and the time he needed.

Christine was going home!

* * *

 **Yippeeeee, Christine is going home! But what will she find when she gets there is the question. Erik? No one? Danger and death?**

 **At least we now know that the baby is just fine, no worries there.**

 **And uh oh...Erik put his foot in it this time, he totally should have stayed and apologized. But nope, he went slinking off to work and then got himself in another chunk of trouble when he came home.**

 **But look...Charles is talking! And what he said made a heap of sense. Good thing Christine is listening to him THIS time!**

 **Now remember, _tune in tomorrow_ for another chapter, but first, take a moment to leave a quick review! Thank you.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Kristin:** No...it was the smell of a car bomb...she got it right. Ha ha, nor more Taylor swift perfume for you, huh? Ok, if Erik IS an idiot, then how would he know better? And if he was smart...he wouldn't BE an idiot. Kind of circles around there. ha ha. Yep, Raoul love to gobble up information...and then twist it into his own designs. Charles IS getting better. Which is good, because he might be the only one smart enough to get everyone out of the fix they are now in. ha ha. OH, Look...he WAS! Thanks.

 **Guest:** *Erik sits down, folds his hands in his lap and stares at you* "I am listening." *After a few minutes he nods his head and stands up* "I have heard your point, yet I do not feel the need to take your very well thought out advice. I will continue on as I please." Well...it was worth a try. Thanks. FP33

 **GuestRP:** True...the book Erik was indeed pretty much non-violent. However, in the Kay version...not so much. And while the movie and play does have him kill, other than when he does in Piangi, it was mostly justified. Joseph deserved it. I think he should have just tied up or knocked out Piangi. Erik did only want to be loved...and too bad he didn't know about the Phangirls, right? As for him, the car bomb, and Phil...just wait...all will be made clear in time. Follow Charles' advice...Trust Erik. I think he will have to wait till the baby is born to write music for it. Right now he's too busy with other stuff. ha ha. And yes, I do believe if he does not deem Erik worthy, Charles WOULD just take Christine back and say "NO! Not for you!" Oh yes, a Byronic hero! Perfect way to describe him. Appealing to Erik's humanity and reminding him that his actions would hurt Christine IS the way to get through to him for sure. I like the idea of your crazy plot line...do write that! As for how Raoul fits in, yah, sometimes I just leave him out of the story completely. ha ha. No, I do not say one way or the other why Erik was there, but you will find out soon enough, I promise. And even faster now that I am posting every day. But trust me, there will be no Christine raising the baby on her own while Erik rots in jail. THAT is not a happy ending. ha ha.

 **GuestWraithSnake:** No...no one likes the fact that Erik and Amir are involved in 'shady' things. But for some reason Charles seems to think Erik is worth believing in...so trust him. But I also agree with you. There WILL need to be a heap of explaining, and very soon too! And don't worry, after the Drama, there will be a bit more mush. ha ha. Erik and Amir are too smart to have anything come back on them...they are slick. Christine is, as you saw, torn on the subject, but if only Erik would have stayed and told her what was going on...but at least she got good advice from her father. I do like suspenseful stories, but at least now there is no long waiting anymore. Just more chapters. I agree, if anyone innocent in all this got hurt, it WOULD be a game changer. So Erik...you BE CAREFUL. Your guesses have been duly noted...you will have to wait and see if you were right. ha ha. And I'm with Meg...I was at a birth once, and I think I could do without ever seeing that again. ha ha. A chicken coop? ha ha. Yes, I think Amir would throw a wonderful bachelor party! Too bad he didn't have a chance to do so when Erik got married. Also, please note, it was a Key Lime. I forgot to mention that. A Key lime is smaller than a normal lime. There are already plenty of lemons in their love life. ha ha. Dang...that little baby sure has a heap of DNA in it! Pretty handy since Erik loves his wife and child 'to the moon and back'...maybe even 178,000 times!

 **Cayla:** No, I see your point. It would be a horrible thing for Erik to try and kill good people, not only friends of his wife, but FBI agents as well. However, on that subject, all I can say is what Charles told Christine. Trust Erik. OH yes, Christine is putting two and two together, but she still so desperately wants to believe Erik is a good man. She will always have her father, and apparently he is on Erik's side on this...how odd. However at the end of the day, we all know that Erik's love for Christine is by far true and trustworthy. Let's just focus on that. ha ha. Thanks!


	61. Chapter 61

.

 **Tuesday's chapter is here!**

 **Remember, I am posting one every day now, so don't get mixed up and skip one.**

 **.**

 **Also, a list of snippet card holders is at the very, very end.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 61**

 **~X~**

* * *

Erik sat in the back of the limo at the dock, simply waiting. He had made sure to arrive early, not wishing for things to go amiss simply due to tardiness. He wasn't sure what to expect, but if things went well tonight, it might spell the end of all his worries.

His mind drifted to Christine once again, unable to get his beautiful wife out of his thoughts. Erik hated leaving her the way he had, but he was doing all of this _for_ her, he couldn't stop now. Still, she seemed so angry and hurt when he left, and rightly so, seeing as how he had been attempting to keep his association with De'Rossi and the others a secret since they met. Sure she knew he had business with them…but exactly what kind, was what he wished to keep her ignorant about.

Just a few more hours, just one more dirty deal, and then they would be free…or at least he hoped they would be.

 _Please be there when I get home, Christine,_ Erik silently begged. _Please don't have already left._

"Mr. Thorn," came Gerald's voice from the front of the car, breaking Erik out of his thoughts. "I see headlights approaching."

Erik sat up, staring out the front window, and sure enough, a car could be seen heading right for them. This must be what he'd been waiting for. Yet what would happen next was anyone's guess.

The dark vehicle pulled up beside them, turning off its lights, but not the motor. When a large man in a black suit stepped out of the driver's seat and held open one of the back doors, Erik got the message. He was being taken to the meeting place.

"Gerald, I want you to wait here for thirty minutes," Erik instructed quietly. "Not a second longer. If I do not return, you are to get back to the house and guard Christine with your life…understand."

"Perfectly," the large bald man nodded, his eyes full of steely resolve. "I'll see she's kept safe, Boss." He then paused, turning around in his seat and giving Erik a slight nod. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Erik responded, pulling on the door handle to exit. "We will all need it tonight."

.

.

Christine pulled into the circle drive and stopped at the front door, not even bothering to use the garage. Leaping from her vehicle she dashed inside, calling out as she entered.

"Erik? Erik, I'm home!" Yet nothing but silence greeted her. "Damn," she muttered, having hoped he had come back while she was out. Unfortunately, it would appear that this clandestine meeting of his was taking longer than expected. "Well, little one," Christine said sorrowfully, reaching down and rubbing the tiny bump on her stomach. "Looks like it's just you and me tonight. What shall we do? Watch some television? Read a book? Play solitaire?" When she heard a small rumbling sound from her midsection, she couldn't help but giggle. "Eat it is, then. You always have such wonderful ideas." And following her baby's instructions, she headed for the kitchen.

.

.

Fifteen minutes later, after enjoying a hearty sandwich, Christine was attempting to balance a package of ham, a jar of pickles, and three different kinds of cheeses in her arms as she walked to the refrigerator, when a loud noise startled her. The sight of a face in the kitchen window nearly made her drop everything in shock, barely managing to save the pickles at least.

"RAOUL?" Christine screeched, doing her best to calm her now wildly beating heart. "You scared me to death!"

"Are you alone?" he asked in a loud whisper, his eyes darting to the left and right, as if searching for anyone who might suddenly grab him and toss him out on his ear.

"Not anymore," she huffed, walking over and throwing open the door, signaling for him to come inside. "What are you doing out there? Spying on me? And how did you get onto the property anyway?"

"I climbed over the wall," he informed her, rubbing his shoulder as if the task had been more strenuous than expected. "Alcatraz has nothing on this place!"

"And why did you feel the need to sneak in anyway…you could have rung the bell at the gate, you know," she told him, raising an eyebrow at his foolishness.

"I didn't know if your guard dog was still on duty or not," he explained, reaching down and helping her scoop up the fallen food. "Sorry I startled you."

"Forget the food, just get to the point Raoul," Christine fumed. "Erik will be home soon, and I don't think you being here is a good idea."

"That's why I've come, Christine…to warn you," Raoul told her, suddenly deadly serious. "If things go like my brother plans…your husband won't be coming home tonight."

"WHAT?" Christine felt her blood turn to ice. "What does that mean, Raoul? Tell me this instant!"

"I don't know everything, but from what I've been able to glean from reports, chatter, and simply by keeping my eyes and ears open, your husband is involved in some kind of big deal that's going down tonight," he confessed. "It involves not only most of the big-wigs of the underworld here in NY, but it's said that the kingpin himself from overseas is here as well. And the FBI is going to bring them all down…including your husband."

"NO!" Christine felt lightheaded now, and she was having trouble breathing. "You're lying! Erik is not involved in anything underhanded…you've got to be mistaken."

"I wish I was, Christine…truly, for your sake I wish it was all a horrible mistake, but it's not." Raoul did look honestly sorry for her, taking her by the hand and leading her to one of the nearby chairs, assisting her to sit. "You have to know what I'm saying is true. Your husband is not the man you believe him to be. He's a criminal, a smuggler, and possibly even a killer…I've just not been able to prove it yet."

"Stop! Stop saying such horrible things about him!" Christine demanded, tears springing to her eyes. She loved Erik…he couldn't be what Raoul said he was.

"Think about it, Christine," he coaxed, patting her hand gently. "He's rich, powerful, and hangs out with men who are known members of the mob. He's threatened me more than once, obviously lied to you, and even tried to blow up my brother with a car bomb."

"ERIK WOULD NEVER!" she flat out denied.

"You were the one who told me that he was not home that night…that he was out late," Raoul reasoned. "And if you think really hard, I'm sure you can see how everything I am saying fits into place. Open your eyes, Christine…your husband's a criminal."

This was becoming too much for her, and pulling her hand from his, she leaned forward, her elbows on the table as she buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook, both from fear and outrage. Could Raoul be believed? Was Erik at this very moment out there breaking the law? So many things he had done and said over the past few months came back to haunt her now…like his meetings with De'Rossi, that Morte guy, all the papers and things he kept hidden from her…and the smell of explosives on his shirt! Had that wound truly come from a bar fight, or might it have been caused by a car bomb gone wrong? She had never asked him where all his money came from, even though she was fully aware he and Amir had come to America poor and penniless. And now, here he was, the ruler of an empire called Phantom Industries. And in that instant, Christine knew it could all be true. Erik could be all the horrible things Raoul was saying about him. She could have truly married into the mob!

"I know this is all hard to take in," Raoul went on, doing his very best to comfort his distraught friend. "And I talked to Phil a while back, telling him you are not involved in all this mess…I think he believed me. But to be safe, I want to get you out of here before this place is crawling with Feds, the NYPD, and the DOD. You can go to Meg's house if you like, but I want you out of here and safe, Christine. Please…come with me."

Christine looked up at Raoul, feeling more like a lost child than a woman of twenty three. This was her home. She didn't want to leave. And Erik was her husband, the man she vowed to remain with until death do they part. How could she abandon him now? Would their child be forced to grow up not knowing its father because he was locked away in a federal prison? This was not the life she had imagined having, and without Erik…Christine didn't see it as much of a life at all. Besides, what had her father said… _trust Erik._ And if there was ever a time that he needed her trust, it was now. Her father was never wrong, and he had told her to trust him, and trust him she would.

Taking a deep breath, she glared at Raoul, watching his eyes as she searched for any sign of deception.

"Where is he? Where is this supposed meeting taking place?" she demanded.

"I'm not exactly sure of the address, but somewhere down by pier twenty-five," he revealed. "Or at least that's where I overheard several of the detectives saying they would be staked out."

"Take me there!" she told him, getting to her feet as she headed out of the kitchen and towards the front door, grabbing her purse and keys as she went. "I'll prove to you that you're wrong about Erik!"

"WHAT? Like hell I will!" Raoul yelled, catching up to her as she set her hand on the doorknob. "It's too dangerous, and if we got caught, my brother would personally roast my chestnuts over an open flame!"

"Then stay here," she shrugged. "I can find it myself!" And jerking out of his grasp, she yanked open the door and stormed to her car.

"Don't be a fool, Christine," Raoul kept on, only a step or two behind her at all times. "You are not going to the water front at this time of night!"

"Oh yah?" she questioned, pulling open her car door. "Just watch me!"

"That's it, I'm calling my brother. Maybe he can convince you that what I'm saying is true." Raoul dug into his pocket and took out his phone, tapping the screen as he went to dial. Yet before he could complete the call, Christine reached out and grabbed it from his hand, throwing the device into the nearby fountain, watching as it flashed a bit and then went black, sinking to the bottom and lying there lifeless. "WHAT THE HELL, CHRISTINE?" Raoul shrieked, his fingers fisting in his hair as he stared at his now ruined phone.

"I'll get you another one, _after_ you take me to where Erik is," she insisted.

Raoul did not seem at all appeased by this, glaring at her like an angry older brother.

"Absolutely not, Christine! Now, hand over your phone!" he huffed, holding out his hand as he watched her dig into her purse, assuming she was going to do as he said. Yet once it was free of her bag, with one swift motion, it quickly joined his in the fountain, the two cell phones now resting in a watery grave.

"Oops," she said, not sounding at all sorry. "I guess if you wish for me to believe what you're saying about Erik, you'll have to take me there and prove it." She then hopped up into her car, looking back at him in determination. "I'm going whether you join me or not, so make up your mind, Chaney!"

Raoul looked fit to be tied, glaring at her and then looking back at his dead phone.

"I just got all my ringtones programed in too," he moaned. Then with a heavy sigh, he threw up his arms in defeat. "Fine…but I'm driving!"

Christine might have balked at that, but right then her nerves were so shot, that having someone else drive sounded rather appealing to her. So scooting over, she handed him the keys, buckling up as the engine roared to life and they took off down the driveway.

 _"Hold on, Erik…I'm coming,"_ Christine whispered under her breath, praying that her beloved could somehow hear her. _"I believe in you."_

 _._

 _._

The black sedan had taken Erik to a seemingly abandoned warehouse several blocks away, parking just outside and allowing him to get out. The sun had set a bit ago, causing the whole area to be blanketed in shadows. And while Erik was used to the dark, right now all he wanted to see was the light in Christine's eyes, and feel the warmth of her touch.

 _"Soon,"_ he told himself quietly. _"Just finish the job and she will be yours at last."_

"Inside," the driver stated, pointing to the door in the side of the building. "They're waiting for you."

"Well, I best not tarry then," he nodded, turning as he headed inside. It was not very well lit, but since the entire place was empty, it didn't take much to spot their destination. For there, to the far left, stood a group of seven men around a small table, all dressed in dark suits and chatting quietly. Most of them Erik recognized, having met them all at least once, but he was most familiar with De'Rossi and Morte. Still, there was one he had never seen before…and he knew _that_ was the man he'd been brought here to meet. Milling nearby, as if for protection or enforcement, were three more men just like the one following Erik, bringing the total of hired muscle to four. When he and his escort approached, the seven turned, each one eyeing the newcomer warily…all but Joseph, that is.

"Erik! So glad you could make it," he smiled, stepping forward and slapping him on the back in greeting. "I was just telling our friends here about how much you've improved our operations since joining us." He then turned to the other men. "It took quite a bit of coaxing, but I knew eventually, he would see the wisdom of doing things our way."

"So, _this_ is the infamous Erik Thorn?" the mystery man asked, a stout fellow with grey hair and a clean shave, his white Panama hat causing him to stand out from the rest. "I have followed your career for many years, though I never thought you would agree to join our little operations."

 _"Little?"_ Erik repeated with a snort. "If that were even half true, I would not have given this venture the time of day. I only deal in important matters, big business, and things that guarantee to make me rich." He then gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Or at least, richer than I already am." Erik eyed the man up and down, as if sizing an opponent. "I take it you are the _Client_?"

"It's what I prefer to be known as, yes," he nodded. "And I like a man with priorities, someone willing to go after something he wants with both hands and not afraid to get a little dirt on them in the process."

"Oh, trust, me, I know exactly what I want, and nothing will stop me from getting it," Erik assured him, bringing a smile to the man's face.

"Just what I want to hear," he then turned to De'Rossi, giving him a nod of approval. "Nice job recruiting him, I think he'll go far in our organization."

This caused everyone to visibly relax, for if the Client approved, then all was well.

"Shall we proceed then?" De'Rossi asked, gesturing towards a doorway behind them.

"In a moment," the Client said, holding up his hand. "Everyone leaves their phones here. No electronic devices past this point, they are too easily tapped into or monitored. Can't be too careful now, can we?"

When some of the other men appeared hesitant, a few of the thugs stepped forward, urging their compliance. Erik slowly removed his phone and set it among the others, a bit irritated at having to give it up, yet he kept his feelings well hidden.

"Now…this way, gentlemen," the Client invited, signaling for the hired men to follow behind. He led them all through the door and down a flight of stairs, then along a narrow hallway that felt like it went on forever.

"Where are we going?" Erik asked, not at all uncomfortable in tunnels or dark spaces, but he didn't like not knowing what was going on. "I thought we came for a meeting, not a hike."

"Patience, Thorn," De'Rossi chuckled. "Precautions need to be taken. We've not gotten this far by being lax in our security. We will get to business soon."

Well, it couldn't come soon enough for Erik, for no matter how much he needed to keep his head in the game, he couldn't stop worrying about Christine. He just prayed she had not been stubborn for once and listened to him, remaining inside their protected home until he returned.

Before long, the hallway filtered out into a small dock beneath what Erik assumed was another warehouse several blocks away. They were apparently not even close to where they started out, and this did not sit well with him. But what made things even more frustrating, was the fact that Joseph was now ushering them all onto an expensive looking offshore deep V boat, complete with canopy and enough plush leather seats for everyone.

"How do you like my lady?" the Client asked, letting his hand graze across the controls lovingly. "She's gotten me out of a jam or two, let me tell ya. She's got more under her hood than what comes standard, you can be sure."

"First a hike, and now a midnight cruise?" Erik growled, not liking how things were proceeding at all.

"What's the matter, Thorn? Afraid of a little water?" Morte laughed, though he quickly quieted down when he saw the stony glare Erik gave him.

"Indulge us just a bit longer, Mr. Thorn, and I promise I will make it all worth your while," the Client urged, instructing everyone to sit down as he started the engine and slowly eased it forward, out a set of doors that opened automatically, and into the night.

.

.

All the way to the docks, Raoul grumbled and fussed, upset about his phone and the fact that Christine had bullied him into taking her where neither one of them belonged. Yet she didn't care, he could rail at the moon if he wished, just as long as she got to where Erik was and learned the truth. She was gazing out the window, watching the lights reflecting on the water, when she suddenly sat up straight.

"ERIK!" she cried out, her palms now pressed against the glass. "It's him! There, on that boat!" She pointed at the vessel going the opposite direction they were, reaching over and grabbing Raoul by the sleeve. "TURN AROUND! He went that way!"

"What…no, that's nowhere near the place we were told they would be meeting," he stated in confusion. "Are you sure it was him?"

"I think I would know my own husband!" Christine argued. "Now turn around! We have to follow him!"

Raoul did as directed, executing a perfect one-eighty in the middle of the road, and punching the gas in order to catch up with the boat.

"Was he alone?" Raoul was really confused now.

"No, it looked like there were several others with him," she answered, craning her neck as she searched the water for any sight of him. "THERE! We're catching up!" Yet when Raoul went to speed up, she turned and slapped his arm again. "Don't follow so closely though! Didn't they teach you anything in FBI school? Hang back, don't draw attention. Just drive casual."

"And when did you suddenly become all-knowing?" Raoul huffed, yet let off the gas like he was told.

"According to you, I married into the mob, remember!" she spat back, watching the boat with eagle eyes.

.

.

It was another ten minutes before the boat came to a stop alongside a wooden dock at Pier thirty-nine. Raoul shut off the lights and pulled Christine's vehicle behind a large shipping container, turning off the engine and quietly slipping out of the car.

"You stay here, Christine," Raoul instructed, desperately wishing he had thought to bring his weapon… _any_ weapon! "It's too dangerous."

"Like hell I'm staying here!" she hissed, jumping out of the passenger door and hurrying over, unwilling to be left behind.

"Were you always this stubborn? I don't recall you being this way in high school," Raoul grumbled, finding a spot behind a stack of pallets and doing his best to keep Christine safely behind him.

"You might have noticed if you weren't so busy locking lips with Trisha Westlake," she shot back.

"Will you just let that die already?" he begged with an exasperated roll of his eyes.

"Can you see what they're doing?" Christine asked, more interested in Erik than hashing over the past with Raoul.

"It looks like they are getting out of the boat and walking up the dock to that building over there," he said, pointing to a large warehouse, one that was lit up and a lot less gloomy than many of the others nearby. "This is so not good," Raoul grumbled. "I think they must have given my brother and his men the slip. I distinctly heard that they were going to be staking out Pier twenty-five."

"Good, then I can get to Erik, and figure out what's going on before you try and rat him out," she said with a firm nod.

"You are _not_ getting anywhere near that group," he told her. "These men would kill you just as soon as look at you. I mean they tried to take out my brother, and he's the regional director of the FBI. No telling what they would do to a little thing like you."

"I decked you, didn't I?" she reminded him, with a narrowed glare. "And I have Erik to protect me. He wouldn't ever let anything happen to me."

"Wish I believed that, Christine," he said with a heavy sigh. "But if he's mixed up with them…you can't count on anything."

"I can always count on Erik…and he can count on me!" she growled, so tired of trying to defend her husband to him, knowing it did no good, for he was not to be swayed. "Look, they all went inside! Now what?"

"Now, I sneak in, do a bit of reconnaissance, and then we find a phone to call in the cavalry. Something we would not need to locate if you hadn't tossed both our cells in that fountain, I might add." Raoul stated with a huff, scanning the area around them. "There…that looks like a way in." He pointed to a metal ladder attached to the outside of the building, leading up to a series of glass windows that were partially open for ventilation. It was too high to be of any concern to most, but it was just what Raoul needed. "Now, stay here and don't move, understand? I'm going in."

And without waiting for a reply, he crouched low and dashed towards the side of the building, looking both ways before he began to scale the ladder. Raoul went as quickly as he could, without causing the metal structure to rattle or alert anyone to his presence, and in no time, he was in position to take a peek inside.

There was a second story platform circling the inside of the warehouse, with boxes and cargo of all sorts stacked here and there, and thankfully it was the perfect height for him to drop onto from the windows. He didn't see anyone making rounds on the platform, so with as much stealth as he could muster, Raoul shinnied through the open window and eased himself onto the wooden floor. He was just about to go investigate, but the sight of Christine's head poking through the window he had just climbed through, violently startled him.

"Christine!" he hissed, placing his hand over his wildly beating heart. "You scared the crap out of me! I told you to stay put!"

"And I didn't listen, did I?" she huffed, reaching for a handhold so she could make her way inside as well.

"Obviously not," Raoul grumbled quietly, assisting her so that she didn't fall. "You do know that pregnant ladies are not supposed to be doing this kind of thing!"

"Just shut up and help me inside!" she countered, taking his hand and maneuvering safely down to the catwalk. She might have said more, but the sound of voices stopped them cold, and Raoul quickly pulled her down behind a few of the large wooden crates for cover.

They did their best to peek between the boxes, desperate to see what was going on. Down below a total of eight men in suits stood, with what looked to be four more muscle types hanging back, making sure they were protected. They all congregated around a large table, where after taking their seats, they began to speak. Raoul gave a grunt of frustration, unable to make out anything being said from so far away.

"I need to get closer," he whispered, seeing that at the far end of the catwalk, there were stairs that led down to another lower platform that held what looked to be a small office. It had a door on both sides, and a window facing out towards where the men were talking. Unfortunately, the blinds were closed, not allowing Raoul to see inside the little room. However, if he could somehow make it to the office, he might not only be able to hear what was going on, but perhaps there was a phone in there he could use to call Phil. He had to let them know that the meeting location was not where they had been led to believe. And for all Raoul knew, his brother and half the FBI were at this moment surrounding the wrong building.

Turning to Christine, he gave her a stern glare, just daring her to disobey him a third time.

"You will stay here, do you understand?" he ordered. "You will _not_ move from this spot, you will _not_ follow me, and you will keep your head down no matter what happens. Do I have your word on this?"

Christine shut her eyes and gave a heavy sigh. Why did he not understand that she was here to protect her husband, and for no other reason. Still, she was not about to burst in on whatever was going on down there and upset Erik. She would remain close, out of sight, and wait until he needed her help…and that was the best she could promise Raoul.

"I will stay here…for now," she assured him at last. "But if Erik needs me, then all bets are off!"

"I guess that's the best I'm gunna get," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Now stay hidden…and be quiet. I'll be back as quick as I can and then we can both leave the way we came in." And off he went, quietly darting from crate to crate in an attempt to get closer without being seen.

.

.

Erik sat there listening to the Client go on about their operation, with Joseph interspersing updates and suggestions now and then. Most of the others were the kind what would go along with anything, just as long as they got their cut of the money. He knew most of them, at least by name, and had had the misfortune of working with one or two. These were the kingpins, the ones fronting the money, or providing the muscle needed to keep the drugs and illegal weapons pouring in on a regular basis. It meant big money for those willing to supply these things, and even more money for those willing to sell them in the states. And while Erik was all about making more money, he had never been keen on doing it at the expense of others. Drugs and weapons killed both the guilty and the innocent, and often no one cared about which were which.

"Now, what I need from all of you is a pledge of good faith that you'll hold up your end of the bargain," the Client was saying. "I won't do business with anyone who's afraid of getting their hands dirty…or a little blood on them. Who's in?"

There was a silence around the table at first, and Erik could see that many of them feared both saying no…as well as yes. Still, the pressure was fierce, and one by one they all raised their hands, offering their support to seeing the job done. Erik was the last to agree, his hand raising along with the others, though perhaps not as high.

"Excellent!" Joseph nodded, standing up with a wide smile. "Then shall we all have a look at some of the goods? The Client was very generous and brought a few samples of the quality products we can expect coming in on the first shipment."

Now _this_ was something Erik was definitely interested in, and stood to comply. But just as they began to go, a loud sound to their left startled them, causing each one to reach for some sort of weapon they might have on them. Erik had brought no gun…but he did have his Punjab lasso tucked securely in his coat pocket, ready to be put to use.

"What's going on over there?" Joseph demanded harshly, watching as two of the thugs appeared to be struggling with something on the stairs.

"We caught some guy sneaking around," one of them called back, as another one of the men rushed up to aid the other two, binding the intruder's hands behind his back as a precaution.

"How the blazes did _he_ get in here?" De'Rossi demanded. "Bring him over!"

The men complied, having at last successfully subdued their captive, dragging him down towards the eight men, kicking and fighting the entire way.

"You'll never get away with this!" Raoul hollered as the two men roughly forced him before De'Rossi and the Client. "The FBI knows what you're up to and they have this place surrounded. You'll never make it out alive."

"And just who the hell are you?" the Client demanded, not sure if he should now be worried…or amused by the young man's rants.

"Agent Raoul Chaney," De'Rossi supplied, seeing that they would get no such information from him. "He's Director Chaney's little brother, a simple desk jockey with no field experience. He's of no concern to us."

"And yet, he's _here_!" the white-haired man spat, not liking this at all. "You said you would see that no one knew where we were meeting, De'Rossi! Am I now forced to question your abilities…or your loyalties?"

"NO! Never!" Joseph stated firmly. "I promised to handle security, and I will." He then turned to Morte and the fourth thug, ordering them to search the area for any other intruders, while to the other three guarding Raoul, he jerking his head towards the little office. "Take him in there and dispose of him, quickly and quietly."

The burly men nodded, one pulling out a rather wicked looking knife, as they turned to drag Raoul away.

"Wait!" came a voice that made everyone turn and stare with curiosity.

"And why should we, Thorn?" Joseph asked, eyeing the masked man suspiciously.

"Because if you will indulge me… _I_ would prefer to take care of this pesky boy myself," he offered, stepping forward with a look of pure hatred in his eyes. "I have a score to settle with him."

"Ahhh, yes, this is the one who's been causing you a lot of trouble, isn't it?" De'Rossi nodded. "And while I might not have been able to dispose of _my_ Chaney problem like I wanted to, nothing says you can't have the satisfaction of doing away with yours." He extended his hand, as if offering him the opportunity. "Be my guest."

"You rotten bastard!" Raoul spat at Erik, watching as he stepped forward, reaching out to accept the deadly knife. "I warned Christine that she married a killer! This only proves I was right."

"Fortunately for me, you will soon be dead. Then I never have to worry about her finding out what kind of man I am, do I?" Erik said with a wicked smile. "I believe I'm going to enjoy every moment of this, Agent Chaney."

"Just don't take too long, Thorn," De'Rossi ordered. "We have business to take care of."

"Do not worry, Joseph," Erik assured him. "I will make it quick…but I won't promise it will be painless." He then grabbed Raoul by the back of his neck and shoved him towards the little office ahead of them. "Move it, boy. You have a date with death, and I wouldn't want you to be late."

* * *

 ***Runs and hides*...don't kill me! I told Erik not to be a bad guy, I really, really did! But he just won't listen!**

 **Anyway, so, Christine got home safe, but then _someone_ showed up with news that went and got her in trouble.**

 **Did you laugh when she chucked Raoul's phone in the fountain? ha ha.**

 **Good thing Christine spotted Erik, or they would have been going to the wrong place, right?**

 **Oh, dear...is Raoul a dead duck? Tune in tomorrow and find out!**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Cayla:** Yep, our Dear Daddy Daae said words...and thankfully, THIS time, Christine listened. ha ha. Yes, Erik did tell Charles things that he told no one else. Hmmmm, very interesting theory you have...guess we will have to wait and see if you are right or not. ha ha. Christine's brain is warring with her heart right now...which one will win out? And especially after seeing what just took place...yikes. I don't mind angst, but only if it is resolved quickly...no waiting for twenty chapters to get things fixed, ha ha. Erik did good burning the contract, right, but he did just get rid of his only safety net, so let's hope Christine doesn't fly the coop. ha ha, yes, I guess it was a bit of a B &TB moment...setting her free in hopes that she will stay. I will understand if you can't keep up, but just know that when you are ready to read...there will be a chapter or two waiting for you. ha ha. Thanks.

 **GuestWraithSnake:** Oh, well...what am I doing? Wrapping things up in a nice neat bow, that's what I'm doing. ha ha. Erik can be a fool at times, but at least he's a fool in love. ha ha. Christine's the dastardly sneak? ha ha. OK. Ohhh, I like your theory...interesting...we'll have to wait and see if it's so. Yikes. Wolves? But I'm not afraid, I have a whole pocket full of Scooby snacks, and they will be putty in my hand! So you will get nothing out of me...NOTHING I SAY. (insert maniacal laugh here). With the way Erik has been treating Amir, he's lucky he doesn't push him off a cliff. No bachelor party for Erik until he wises up and stops being a poop-head for the mob. Erik sure took a chance burning that contract, right. Now he has no safety net. Charles did indeed speak...and his first words about Erik were good ones! This bodes well. Ahhhh, yes, but WILL Christine be happy? From what this chapter held, I don't see it being any time soon. Thanks.

 **GuestRP:** Yep, crazy has hit the Thorn household. Erik needs to take a class...Social Skills 101. And of course it doesn't count if you don't sleep...just like eating sweets over a sink makes all the calories go down the drain. ha ha. Yes, her threatening to leave would give him heart palpitations. Glad you have faith in Erik...you could probably use a bit more after reading today's' chapter. ha ha. I'm sorry that is has to end...but eventually I just run out of words...and I did. ha ha. And I feel totally lost now without a story to write too. But I have other projects to keep me busy until inspiration strikes again. Thanks.

 **Kristin:** Charles does deserve three cheers! Hip, hip, hooray! Lots of emotions, lots of drama. Ha ha, well, you kind of got your wish, didn't you. Raoul DID show up at the house, as for him keeping her safe...um...about that. ha ha. I told Erik he should have had Antoinette go sit with Christine, since NO ONE would have got past her, the Tiger Lady. ha ha. Or Meg, she could have given them a high kick that had them singing soprano. ha ha. Meg will be back soon. But first we need to sort out Erik and Christine. Thanks.

* * *

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	62. Chapter 62

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 _ **BONUS CHAPTER!**_

 **It's still Tuesday, but I wanted to send you all another one since I really, really left you on a cliffie. See how nice I am.  
**

 **And everyone who spent a snippet card today, gets a refund! Since I only decided to post again after I got home. ha ha.**

 **So, don't skip reading Chapter 61, and please leave a review for each one. **

**Thanks.**

.

.

 **Oh, and ~XXX~ means flashback time.**

.

 **Chapter 62**

 **~X~**

* * *

From her vantage point, Christine had watched in terror as Raoul had been discovered and taken captive, holding her breath as she waited to see what they would do to him. She was still too far away to hear what was being said, but she gave a sigh of relief when she saw Erik step forward, taking the knife away from the burly man holding Raoul in his grip. Yet her brows furrowed together when she saw the two of them heading off to the small office, with Erik shoving Raoul in a rather unkind manner. What was going on?

Christine waited anxiously, straining to see through the crates, as the minutes ticked by. Sadly, the blinds were pulled on the office window, giving her no information as to what Erik and Raoul were doing in there. But then, to her horror, Erik exited… _alone._ And not only that, he was calmly wiping the knife in his hand with a white handkerchief…and even from where she crouched, Christine could see the cloth was now stained red with blood.

 _Blood? Whose? Raoul's blood? NO! This can't be_ , her mind screamed. Erik would never…he promised he wouldn't hurt Raoul! But what was she supposed to think? The evidence was right there before her eyes. Christine's world was now spinning out of control, her heart racing, and she felt sick to her stomach. Erik was her husband, the father of her child…the man she loved! There was no way it could be how it looked, could it?

.

.

Erik came striding back towards the other men, wiping the blade clean of the blood he had just drawn. Oh, the look on that foolish boy's face had been utterly priceless, leaving the masked man thoroughly satisfied with himself.

"There…all taken care of," he announced, letting the bloody cloth fall onto the table, as proof of his dastardly deed. "Now, shall we continue with business?"

"Much obliged, Thorn," De'Rossi said with an evil grin. "And was it worth the wait?"

"Immensely pleasurable," he nodded. "You have my gratitude."

"I'm just sorry that car bomb I had planted in Director Chaney's car failed to do the trick, then we would have been rid of him as well," Joseph said with a shrug. "But next time I won't miss, that's for damn sure." He then turned and looked at the rest of the men, gesturing to the far side of the warehouse. "Now, as I was saying, before we were so rudely interrupted. This way, gentlemen."

.

.

Christine sat with her back to the crates, her knees pulled up with her arms wrapped around them, shaking like a leaf. She was frightened, confused, and no longer sure of anything. This was her worst nightmare coming true, and she didn't know if she should run, stay, scream, or just cry her eyes out. Why had she forced Raoul to bring her here? Was he now lying dead in that little office because of her? And was her own husband responsible for taking his life? Yet her father's words still rang clearly in her ears… _trust Erik_. But how could she when what she had just seen looked so horribly wrong? Nothing made sense.

Well, _one_ thing did at least. Christine had to get out of there, to find help, and keep her baby safe. For at that moment, her child was the only thing that truly mattered.

Unfortunately, while Christine had been doing all this soul searching, she didn't hear the two men with guns creeping up on her…not until it was too late.

"Gotcha!" Morte yelled, reaching down and grabbing hold of her by the arm and roughly yanking her to her feet.

Instantly startled and afraid, Christine let out a loud scream, thrashing wildly as she tried to free herself. Yet Morte's grip was unyielding, and in no time at all he and the other man had her arms pinned to her side, which allowed the larger man to easily carry her towards the stairs at the end of the catwalk.

.

.

While everyone heard Christine's cry of fright, Erik was the only one who recognized who it had come from…and it caused the blood in his veins to turn to ice.

 _No! Please…no,_ Erik prayed silently, his body whipping around as he desperately searched for where the sound had originated. His heart plummeted as he saw the struggling form of his wife, being half carried, half dragged down the steps towards him, caught between Morte and one of the thugs.

"Look who I found!" Morte called, giving Christine a little shake in hopes of halting her resistance.

As they brought her near, it quickly became clear that Morte was not the only one who recognized this new captive…De'Rossi did as well.

"What's the meaning of this, Thorn?" he demanded, looking both shocked and confused by this unexpected development. "What's your wife doing here?"

 _"His wife?"_ the Client growled. "Did she come with you, Thorn…or that G-man?"

Erik was unable to answer, completely unsure how to respond without getting them both killed. Yet no matter what, there was no way he could allow anyone to harm Christine, and his eyes grew deadly as he stepped towards Morte and the man holding her.

"Get your filthy hands off my wife!" he growled, taking her gently by the arm while pushing the other two men violently, shoving them back and causing Morte to stumble slightly. He then pulled Christine close, knowing that above all else, he had to protect her and their child. "What are you doing here, Christine?" he hissed, ignoring the now glaring men around him. "I told you to stay at home."

"I…I…" Christine began, still shaken up from everything that had happened, and unable to make a reply.

"Whose side are you on, Thorn?" De'Rossi asked, clearly growing angrier by the moment. "Explain yourself…and what she's doing here. NOW!"

Giving no reply to Joseph's rants, Erik pulled her back a little and looked down into her eyes, searching for a reason, _any reason_ , for her being in such a dangerous place.

"Why did you come?" he whispered. "Who knows you are here?"

"No one…no one except…Raoul," she whispered, her tears beginning to fall as her emotions began to boil over. "He…he said you were…doing illegal things, I told him he was wrong. I wanted to know for sure. I…I made him bring me." She then grabbed Erik's shirt, fisting it in her hands desperately. "Please, tell me you didn't just kill Raoul. Please, say it isn't true."

Erik gasped and his head snapped back a bit, as if he had just been slapped by her accusation. Christine had seen him take Raoul away…and return with his blood on the blade, and now she feared the worst. She believed she had married a murderer…and in truth, he had given her no reason to think otherwise.

"Christine, this is not the time…" he began, knowing that their chances of making it out of all this were now slim to none, but what else could he do? His options were few. But Christine cut him off, her voice now raised in panic, nearly screaming out for understanding.

"Tell me you didn't just kill Raoul in cold blood!" she cried. "Convince me the father of my child is not a killer! Please Erik! Tell me anything, and I swear I will believe you, every last word." And she knew she would. She loved Erik so much that no matter what he said she would accept it as the truth. Even now, in the face of such overwhelming evidence, she would take his word over what she had seen with her own eyes. "Just please, don't stand here and lie to me a moment more, I can't take it…I can't!"

"That's enough, missy!" Joseph ordered, fed up with delays and unexpected guests crashing this important, and supposedly secret, meeting. And reaching out he grabbed Christine on either side of her arms and yanked her backwards, not realizing that she was still holding on to Erik by his shirt. There was a loud ripping sound and as she was at last forced back, part of the white fabric came with her, exposing Erik's chest to everyone there. And while that in itself would not have been so bad…the sight of a little recording device and a wired microphone taped there was.

"TRAITOR!" the Client yelled, pointing at Erik and the damming evidence that he was indeed recording every word spoken that evening. "You're an informant!"

Erik shut his eyes for a moment, both upset about being discovered, and relieved as well. He had hated lying to Christine all this time, keeping this part of his life secret from her, but there had been no other way. He couldn't put her in danger by telling her about his plan, and he had been forbidden to do so by the FBI. It had been part of the deal he had struck, and though it had been hell keeping it, he had not been willing to run the risk of messing up his chances for a full pardon by telling Christine.

"Erik…you…you…" Christine stammered, her voice now hardly above a whisper. And suddenly everything fell into place, and she felt like an utter fool to have ever doubted him, even for a second. _Trust Erik,_ her father had said. And now she knew why. He was working with the good guys to bring down these horrible men…and she had just messed everything up by coming. "Oh…Erik!"

"Seize him!" the Client cried, pointing at Erik with murder in his eyes.

Yet before they could do so, several things happened at once, leaving Christine both confused and disoriented. First there was a loud cracking noise, followed by a blinding light, as thick grey smoke filling the air, causing chaos to erupt all around them. She felt herself being ripped from De'Rossi's hands, pulled to the side just as several gunshots rang out, making her cover her head in fear as she was dragged away, unsure what in the world was going on.

 _"Run, Christine!"_ she heard Erik's voice in her ear, spurring her legs into action as she followed where she was being led. Her eyes were stinging from the smoke and she couldn't see a thing, but knew that Erik would never steer her wrong. Then they were out of the dense fog and she could see them weaving through stacks of boxes, crates, and other pieces of cargo crammed in the back of the warehouse. She had no idea where they could go that the men wouldn't eventually discover them, but neither was she going to stop and debate the idea with Erik.

"Here!" Erik hissed, grabbing hold of the nob on a small door and jerking it open. It was a dusty closet, no bigger than the size of a shower, but Erik wasted no time getting her inside.

Quickly, but carefully, he eased her down on the floor, putting her back to the wall and forcing two things into her hands. One was the recording device he had been wearing, and the other… _a gun!_ Where had he gotten that? He must have grabbed it in the confusion, taking it from one of the other men…or so Christine assumed.

"Stay here, don't move, and if anyone but me comes through that door…shoot to kill, understand?" His voice was deep and desperate, his eyes begging her to agree without question. And even if she had no idea if she could actually pull the trigger like he wanted her to, she nodded her consent. "I will be back for you, Christine…I swear it," he told her. "Protect yourself and our baby…I love you both." And leaning in, he gave her a quick but profound kiss, before getting to his feet and exiting the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Left alone in the dark, afraid and alone, Christine stuck the little recorder in her pocket and held the gun in both hands, unable to stop them from shaking. How had this night gone so terribly wrong?

.

.

Raoul lay on the floor of the small office thinking the very same thing…how had this night gone so terribly wrong? His mind spun with questions, with confusion, and most of all, humiliation and guilt. He ran the past several minutes over in his mind once again, trying to make sense of it all…

~XXX~

"You rotten bastard!" Raoul spat at Erik, watching the masked man step forward, reaching out his hand to accept the deadly knife. "I warned Christine that she married a killer! This only proves I was right."

"Fortunately for me, you will soon be dead, and I never have to worry about her finding out what kind of man I am," Erik said with a wicked smile. "I believe I'm going to enjoy every moment of this, Agent Chaney."

"Just don't take too long, Thorn," De'Rossi ordered. "We have business to take care of."

"Do not worry, Joseph," Erik assured him. "I will make it quick…but I won't promise it will be painless." He then grabbed Raoul by the back of his neck and shoved him towards the little office ahead of them. "Now move it, boy. You have a date with death, and I wouldn't want you to be late."

Erik hated to admit it, but he was taking an inordinate amount of pleasure from shoving the wretched boy around like this, allowing him to assume the worst was about to take place. Yet, despite how much he detested Raoul, he couldn't let the ridiculous fop go getting himself killed…at least not if he could prevent it. He only hoped his presence here tonight wouldn't ruin everything he and his brother Phil had worked so hard to put in motion. Director Chaney had promised Erik that his little brother would stay out of things, that he had ordered him to step down…but it would seem the little twit had a problem with following orders.

Still holding on to Raoul's collar, Erik forced him up the few steps to the office door, shoving him inside and shutting it behind him. The boy stumbled to the middle of the room, turning around as he stared wide eyed at Erik, doing his best to appear brave and defiant…while he looked more like he might piss his pants.

"I warned Christine! I told her you were a creep and a lowlife!" Raoul spat, but Erik cut him off.

"Just shut the hell up and listen, you idiot," he growled in a low voice, silencing the boy. "I am not going to kill you, even though you thoroughly deserve it for being so blasted stupid. I am working with your brother, Phil. He sent me in under cover to infiltrate the mob and get evidence on them so he can take down De'Rossi and their mysterious Client. And here you are, right where you don't belong!"

"W-w-what?" was all Raoul could think to say.

"You heard me! Now lay down on the floor," Erik ordered, taking his knife and cutting the ropes that bound his hands, before pushing him down roughly. "Once I leave, wait a few minutes just in case they peek in to check that I killed you, and then call your brother and tell him that the meeting place got changed."

"I…I don't have a phone," Raoul told him.

"No, of course you don't," he huffed, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Because _that_ would have actually been helpful, wouldn't it?" He then gestured to the desk to his left. "Thankfully, there is one right there, use it. Bring help." Erik then knelt down beside the prone man, grabbing his arm and pushing up his sleeve. "Now I will not lie…this is going to hurt, and I am not even a little bit sorry about that." And before Raoul could even blink Erik took the knife and cut a long slice down the outside of his arm, leaving a red trail of blood in its wake. Anticipating the boy's reaction, Erik clamped a hand over his mouth, stifling his scream and any curse words that might have followed. When he was sure Raoul was finished, he removed his hand and wiped the blade across his arm, soaking the knife enough to be convincing. He then took Raoul's arm and pressed it to his neck, making it look as though Erik had given the boy a mortal wound. "Lay here for a minute or two, and then get on the phone! And if your being here messes up all my diligent plans…I swear I might come back and slit your throat for real." Then he was on his feet and out the door, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket as he went, plastering on a smug smile as he cleaned his weapon.

~XXX~

Raoul had laid there, doing his best to calm his breathing, not to mention the flow of blood coming from his arm.

"Did he really have to cut me so deep?" he asked himself quietly. Taking out a handkerchief from his pocket, he laid it over the wound and then pulled off his tie, wrapping it around several times before tying it securely. That should keep enough pressure on the cut until he could see if he would need stitches.

When he figured it was safe, having heard no one coming back to check on his supposedly dead body, Raoul sat up, reaching for the phone on the desk. Pulling it down beside him, he dialed quickly, desperate to help make amends for the mess he had obviously caused. He could only hope that Christine had remained hidden and was still safe. For if not…he wouldn't blame Thorn at all for wanting him dead.

.

.

About a mile or two away, sitting in a car in a dark alley, Amir downed the last of his coffee, looking at the cup dejectedly. He should have brought a refill…but then he might have to go pee, and that was never convenient during a stake out.

"Any movement?" Phil Chaney asked, looking over at the Persian man sitting in the passenger seat next to him. "It's been a long time since they went in."

"Yes, it has," Amir nodded, never having been the patient sort. "But according to the tracking chip in Erik's phone, he's still in the warehouse."

"And we dare not bust in before we can ascertain if the Client is there, or that Thorn's located the goods," Phil added. "If this is going to stick, we need evidence and enough of a confession to convict. I've had that sick bastard they call the Client slip through my fingers one too many times…I won't let it happen again tonight!"

"Are you sure you're feeling up to this?" Amir questioned, gesturing to his bandaged hand, as well as the other scrapes and bruises that were visible. "You took a bit of a beating the other night."

"So did Erik when he pulled me out of my car only seconds before it exploded," the director reasoned. "But I don't see him at home taking it easy…so there's no excuse for me not to be here. We've been trying to nab the Client for a long time. Now, with Erik's help, this might be our one chance to actually do so."

"I wish we could hear what's going on in there," Amir grumbled.

"Yes, me too, but a small analog recording device was all we could risk sending in with him," the director stated. "We couldn't chance them intercepting our frequency and blowing the whole thing. Besides, it would have been too easy for them to jam it anyway…this way is better."

Amir nodded, though still hating not knowing what Erik was doing. He had spent nearly half his life protecting that man's back from danger, and now to be left out like this was very disconcerting.

"Hey…I don't think I've had the chance to thank you for bailing me out of jail the night of the ball," Amir said, shooting the man beside him a goofy grin. "Bet I was the last person you expected to get a call from that night."

"You're damn right," Phil huffed, though even he couldn't help but smile a little. "I almost let you rot for pulling such a stupid stunt like that. What were you thinking? You could have ruined the whole operation."

"Hey, it wasn't me!" Amir protested. "I just stepped in and took the fall, figuring that Erik would have been less likely to get out of it as easily."

"Erik did that?" Phil was instantly impressed. "What the hell for?"

"They attacked him!" the Persian argued. "He was just protecting Christine and himself, it was self-defense."

"In that case, remind me never to get on Thorn's bad side," Phil said with a low whistle of admiration.

"Too late for that," Amir chuckled. "It seemed like every time you wanted to meet with us, your call would come at the absolute worst time. He was running out of excuses to give Christine for just disappearing like that."

"Well it wasn't like I could just call him directly, or stop by," he huffed.

Just then there was the sound of a phone ringing, causing Phil to reach out and hit the button on his dash, putting the call on speaker.

"Chaney here," he said, his tone all business.

"Phil! It's Raoul," came a voice that made Amir's face scrunch with instant disgust.

"Raoul, I don't have time to chat right now, I'll call you later when I get home," he said quickly, reaching out to end the conversation.

"NO! Wait!" the younger man's voice sounded desperate. "I'm in trouble…well, everyone's in trouble really, including you."

"What? What are you talking about?" Phil sounded really irritated now.

"You're staking out the wrong location!" Raoul went on hurriedly. "Thorn and the other men you're trying to trap must have snuck out somehow, they're down here at a warehouse on pier thirty-nine!"

"WHAT?" Phil was now instantly on alert. "How…Thorn hasn't moved!"

"No…his _phone_ hasn't moved," Amir corrected, instantly enraged that they had been duped. "While apparently _they_ have!"

"Is that Mr. Dessan with you?" Raoul asked, sounding both shocked and a bit perturbed. "So Thorn wasn't lying…he _is_ working with you!"

"What the hell are you even doing mixed up in this and how did you speak to Thorn?" Phil demanded. "What's going on, little brother?"

However, before Raoul could answer, the sound of a loud bang could be heard over the line, followed by several gun shots.

"Oh, hell!" Raoul swore into the receiver. "Something's gone wrong…and Christine's still out there! I've gotta go. Just get here fast!"

"CHRISTINE?" Amir shouted, leaning forward in alarm. "What do you mean? What's she got to do with this?" But before he could get an answer, the line went dead, causing him to slam his open palm against the dash in frustration.

Phil was already yelling into his walkie-talkie, giving orders to his men to converge on the warehouse at Pier thirty-nine, immediately, alerting them to gunfire and the fact that there was now one informant, one agent and a civilian inside. He then started the engine and slammed his foot to the floor, peeling out like the hounds of hell were on his heels.

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Erik had hated leaving Christine alone like that, but he was not about to drag her behind him as he made his way back towards the group of men he had hoped to see behind bars that night. But now everything had gone wrong and he was going to have to improvise if they were to all make it out of this alive.

With catlike stealth he crept back to where he had left the men, now finding them all gone, and worried that they were heading back to the dock and the boat. He couldn't let them escape! Knowing the way they had come, up through a series of tunnels and hallways, he quickly headed that direction, hoping to cut them off before they made it out. Unfortunately, Erik had no gun, having given the only one he had confiscated in the confusion to Christine, desiring her safety above all else. But he still had the knife and his Punjab lasso, and that alone was deadly enough when used correctly…and Erik had honed his skills to perfection with this particular weapon. So down he went, taking the metal steps two at a time, all the while keeping his ears trained on the corridors in front of him, hoping to detect an ambush before he fell right into it.

As he turned a corner, he stopped, sensing that there was indeed something up ahead. He hoped it was De'Rossi and the Client, but he couldn't be sure. So whipping out the blade, Erik darted out, his hand instinctively throwing the knife at his target. It turned out to be one of the four thugs hired for protection, the man instantly fell to his knees, the gun dropping from his hands as they gripped the blade now sticking out of his chest. All the color drained from his face before he toppled over, lying still on the floor.

Erik stepped forward, going to remove the knife from his victim when his keen ears picked up the slightest movement from behind him. Unfortunately, his reaction was not quick enough, having only enough time to spin around before he heard the deadly sound of gun fire. The searing pain of a bullet ripping through the flesh of his right shoulder caused him to stumble backwards, having to brace himself against the wall so as not to fall. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the red stain of blood seeping onto his ripped shirt, telling him that he had indeed been hit.

 _Damn!_ Things had just gone from bad to worse. And to top it all off, he had no way of defending himself against another shot, for the man was too far away to reach with his lasso, and the knife and gun were out of his immediate reach as well. So Erik did the only thing he could, he braced for impact, and prayed that should he die in the next few seconds, that Christine and his child would make it out of this alive.

Yet, the shot never came. Instead he watched the thug holding the gun on him jerk violently and then stagger to the left, before falling to the floor. And there, standing behind him with a piece of two-by-four in his hand was Raoul, looking both pleased and wide eyed at what he'd done.

"You saved _my_ life," he told the injured man, gesturing to the streak of smeared blood on his own neck…something that could have all too easily been real if Erik had not stepped in. "Only fair I should return the favor."

Erik took a deep breath, both gratitude and anger towards the blasted boy warring in his mind. But then he thought about Christine and the anger won out.

"You brought my wife here and put her in danger!" he growled. "You are not off my short list yet!" He then checked his shoulder, the slightest touch causing him to hiss in pain, yet thankful that the bullet had apparently missed hitting bone or any vital arteries. Reaching down he retrieved his blade and the gun the man had dropped.

"I am going after De'Rossi and the Client," he told the boy. "I left Christine in a small closet at the back of the warehouse. Is Phil and the others on their way?"

"They are," he nodded, also retrieving the gun that belonged to the man he had just clobbered. "I'm coming with you. We can't let them get away."

Erik had no time to argue, so giving the lad a nod, he headed off in the direction of the boat dock, hearing the sound of the boy's footsteps behind him. However, as they rounded the last corner, they skidded to a stop, realizing they were at an impasse. They could see De'Rossi and the Client running down the wooden dock, eager to toss off the ropes and get the boat ready to go. While the other men, and final two thugs, were holding position at the doorway, guns ready and prepared to kill any who came into view.

Erik was breathing hard by now, doing his best to push the pain in his shoulder out of his mind, his eyes searching for a way to get to the two king-pins before they escaped into the night. Then he saw it, a small window in the hallway just a few yards back, a bit of streetlight telling him that it led to the outside, and was just what he needed.

"Stay here, draw their fire and keep them busy!" he told Raoul, turning to head back the way they came. "And just pray your brother gets here before they charge back in and mow you down."

Raoul gave Erik a rather scathing look, not quite sure if he should be bolstered by this parting words or insulted. Still, the young FBI agent did as directed, quickly peering out around the corner and firing at the men, drawing their attention towards him and giving Erik the time and distraction he needed to do whatever it was he had planned.

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Christine huddled in the back of the small room, her body shaking with fear as she heard the sound of gunfire. She had no idea if it was the bad guys or the good guys, and in truth she didn't care…just as long as Erik was safe. She blamed herself for all this, knowing that if she had not demanded that Raoul bring her here, Erik would not now be in such danger. He had not been wrapped up in their criminal activities, no…he had been working with the FBI all along! That was what he couldn't tell her, those were the secrets he had been forced to keep. And now, because of her lack of faith and foolish actions, he was out there, being shot at!

"Please be safe, Erik…please come back to me," she begged quietly, whispering these words over and over again like a mantra.

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Erik had made it out of the small window and down the side of the building, thanks to more crates and pallets stacked here and there. He could tell he was losing a lot of blood and growing weaker by the minute, but he knew he had to keep going. Christine's life depended on him triumphing tonight, and he wouldn't let her down.

Once on the ground he raced over to where he could see De'Rossi and the Client, both frantically working at the ropes to free the boat. He could still hear the sound of gunfire coming from the warehouse door in the distance behind him, knowing that Raoul was doing all he could to keep the others occupied. Erik knew he had mere moments before the two men before him would be gone, and he was not about to let that happen. So stepping out he leveled the gun on the two men, shouting out a cursory warning.

"Lay down your weapons and you can still come out of this with your lives," he told them, thinking that was the most these two scum bags deserved. From working with Phil, Erik had learned much about these two men's history, and the sheer number of deaths they were responsible for was staggering. If convicted on only half the crimes they were accused of, they would be put away for several lifetimes, and Erik wanted nothing more than to see that happen.

"Thorn!" De'Rossi growled, turning to see his onetime associate standing there with a gun on him. "You blasted traitor, I trusted you!"

"Just one more bad decision on your part then, it would seem," Erik said with a slight shrug. "Don't be a fool and let that pattern continue…lay down your weapons and step away from the boat."

Erik was unsure what would happen next. He had the drop on them, and if they were smart, they would surrender. And yet, no one had ever accused either man before him of being overly wise. So preparing himself for a battle, Erik's body tensed, coiling like a panther, ready to pounce.

Sadly, the continued gunfire and ruckus behind him hampered his senses and Erik failed to notice that Morte had abandoned the others and had come running down the docks just behind him. Upon seeing the masked man holding a gun on his boss, the weasly man raised his own weapon and fired.

The crippling pain of the bullet sinking deep into his upper back was far worse than the flesh wound he had already sustained in his shoulder, instantly making it difficult to breath, let alone stay upright. Falling to his hands and knees, he lost his grip on the gun, hearing it skid across the dock and fall into the water with a soft splash. The sound of footsteps running at him from behind telling Erik that his assailant was coming to finish the job. Well, he was not about to let that happen.

Forcing himself into a crouched position, Erik pulled out his lasso and threw it over Morte's head the moment he was in range, yanking on his end as it tightened around the man's thick neck in a deadly fashion. Without the ability to breath, and his hands instantly going to claw at his neck, he was brought to his knees only inches from Erik. Within moments Morte had turned an unhealthy shade of purple and fell to his side, still as a board. _Serves you right for ever putting your meaty hands on Christine,_ Erik thought to himself.

Yet, he knew his fight was far from over, and he had barely made it back to his feet before De'Rossi was upon him, his gun in his hand as he plowed into Erik, the two men grappling for control. Joseph was attempting to level his weapon at Erik's head, determined to end his life there and then. Each move he made caused new and agonizing pain to shoot through Erik's body, until he knew he could not last much longer. So, giving up any hope of taking De'Rossi alive – and knowing that to delay any longer could easily mean his own death – Erik pulled the knife from his belt and stabbed the man directly in the chest.

De'Rossi gasped in shock, letting go of Erik as he stepped back, staring down at the blade sticking out of his body as if he had no idea how it had gotten there. His face was contorted in pain and fear, as the realization of his impending death struck him at last. Dropping his gun, he reached out and slowly pulled the knife out of his body, the bloody object then slipping from his hands as he fell to his knees. And then, as all the life seemed to drain from his eyes, Joseph De'Rossi fell forward, never to move again.

Erik, staggered to the left just a bit, barely able to see straight as the pain pounded through his body. However, he was not finished yet. The Client had been working hard during the whole fight, not offering to help his comrades in an attempt to escape himself. The boat had roared to life, and while it was not enough to cover the sound of the sirens converging on their location, or the steady stream of gunfire back at the warehouse door, Erik chose to ignore it all and focus on one thing only. Picking up the gun that De'Rossi had dropped, he held it out, aiming at the boat as it began to speed away from the dock. He had to blink several times, steadying his shaking hand, but in the end, when he pulled the trigger, Erik's aim was true. The bullet stuck the exact spot where the fuel tank was, sending the entire boat up on a flash of light and flames, effectively putting an end to the Client's reign of terror.

Flashing lights and sirens were now everywhere, and while he spared a quick thought about Raoul, and hoped the boy was still alive, Erik was fighting to remain conscious. Falling to his knees, he tipped his head back and stared up at the night sky, his hands limp at his sides. It was a clear evening, with the moon and stars visible despite the city lights all around him. He wished Christine was there, to hold him and share one last kiss, but no…it would have been too dangerous. Besides, hadn't protecting his little wife been the reason he had originally agreed to all this.

"I love you, Christine, my little angel," Erik whispered to the sky. "I will love you forever." And with that final thought, he closed his eyes and felt himself slip into darkness.

* * *

 **I would have been really mean if I had written THE END right here, wouldn't I? ha ha. But no, this is not the end.**

 **Well, raise your hand if you knew Erik was undercover?**

 **Raise your hand if you knew it was Phil who got Amir out of jail.**

 **And raise your hand if you knew that it was Erik who pulled Phil out of the car before it exploded.**

 **Now, Erik is in a very bad way...hope he makes it.**

 **Tune in tomorrow morning to find out.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **GuestWraithSnake:** I AM a spitfire AND a sneaky author...hee hee. I will keep going, don't worry. No, Christine can't have fish right now, at least the ones high in mercury. ha ha. You just keep going with your theories...but after reading this chapter I think you will kind of know all. Hmmm, out of Scooby snacks and faced with a second pack of wolves...well, I would ask the first pack, who know love me because I gave them the Scooby snacks, to tell the other pack that I am very nice and that if they let me live, I will bring THEM some tomorrow, plus more for the first pack. HA! True, Annie didn't wait ten years to loose Amir now if Erik pushed him off a cliff. Erik is often very Beast like. Erik might never get over his dunderhead ways, but we can only hope. And I think you already know they ARE double agents. ha ha. Thanks.

 **Guest:** Erik is never what he seems. Very good, as you just read, you were spot on. Ummm, as for Christine being not so stupid as to not hide...well...um...sorry. Thanks for the review and good guessing!

 **Guest RP:** Good, glad to hear you are not mad at Erik. And of course he didn't kill Raoul...but he did cut him pretty deep. ha ha. Yah, if I were Raoul, I would have run the other way, not gone to help Erik...he might regret that later! Lasso lover are ya? ha ha. Christine is being rather dumb, but don't worry, I would never let anything happen to the baby and she knows that, so she feels she can take a few chances. As you saw, Amir was waiting in the wrong place...but he's on his way now. I forgot all about that Phantom super hero, and they even made a movie out of it with Billy Zane right? I might have to go find that on Netflix or something. Thanks.

 **Kristin:** Action, drama, suspense...well, it's still going on, but at least you know who's side Erik is on now. ha ha. As I said above, Christine knows I won't let anything bad happen to the baby, so she thinks she's invincible now. *rolls yes* And I think she's regretting most everything now. Thanks.

 **Cayla:** Wow, you made it just in time for me to get your review in on the bonus chapter! Awesome. Glad you enjoyed my Raoul and Christine snarkyness, they ARE like brother and sister, really. Ha ha, so far you are the only one proud of Christine for doing all this withe a bun in the oven, ha ha. YES, exactly! That 'drive casual' line WAS from Return of the Jedi...you are also the first person to notice that! Yes, your trust in Erik paid off, for he IS working for the good guys to take down the mob. You took Charles' advice and Erik thanks you for your support. I think Raoul knew better than to tell Erik he brought Christine...then he would have been dead. Ummm, you will find out the WHY part in the next few chapters. Answers are coming. Thanks!


	63. Chapter 63

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 **Wednesday's Chapter!**

 **Sorry I am a bit late this morning. I had the chapter all ready to go with responses to the guest reviews and everything...only to find that my computer had to do some updates while I slept and since I still had the window open, it chose to not save thing before closing...or something. Anyway...I had to re-enter it ALL into Doc Manager again! Uggg. Good thing I have the day off otherwise this would have had to wait until I got home.**

 **ONWARD!**

 **.**

 **Chapter 63**

 **~X~**

* * *

Amir had opened the car door and leapt from his seat before Phil had even brought the vehicle to a complete stop, racing forward as he watched Erik drop to his knees. His heart was pounding and his mind racing as he reached his friend, just in time to catch him before he slumped to the ground.

"ERIK!" Amir cried, desperate for any sign that the masked man was still alive. "Come on, Buddy, don't do this. Wake up. Come on, open your eyes!" When he got no response he quickly checked him for injuries, finding two bullet holes, one in his shoulder and the other in his back. While the first was just a painful through and through flesh wound, Amir was fully aware that the second one could have hit several vital organs, and had the potential of being deadly. "WE NEED AN AMBULANCE, NOW!" He shouted over his shoulder, watching as an officer scrambled to his vehicle and got on the radio.

Phil and the others had fanned out, more gunfire joining that which had been going on when they arrived, but Amir didn't give a damn about anyone else but Erik. He removed his jacket and put it over his friend, trying to keep him warm until help arrived. He looked around for something to help stop the bleeding, but seeing nothing he gently laid Erik down and stripped off his own shirt, leaving him in his cotton undershirt. Rolling the masked man over a bit, he wadded it up and pressed it against his back, doing all he could to staunch the flow of blood. When Erik gave a low moan of pain at his actions, he quickly lifted him back into his arms, keeping his shirt in place.

"Erik…can you hear me?" he asked, leaning down in hopes of seeing any sign of response. "Come on, don't you go leaving me now. I've gotten pretty used to taking care of your sorry hide, I wouldn't know what to do with myself if you went and died on me." When he remained still and lifeless, Amir tried one final tactic. "Erik…you've got to stay alive, do you hear me? Think of Christine. What will she do without you? And your baby, you can't leave her to raise the kid alone…especially if it turns out to be as wild and willful as you are."

This seemed to do the trick and as if with great effort, Erik's eyes slowly opened, looking up at Amir in utter agony.

"Christine?" he whispered, his voice low and thin.

Amir wasn't sure if he was asking for her, or if the thought that's who was holding him. Either way, he was just glad his friend was showing signs of life. But he drew the line there…he was not about to let the delirious man kiss him or anything.

"Yes, you have to stay with us for Christine's sake," he agreed, relief flooding his voice. "Think of her, only her, and fight to live, damn it!"

"Stop…bossing me…around," Erik mumbled, his eyes closing halfway.

"I'll do more than that if you don't do exactly as I say!" Amir continued on, unwilling to let Erik slip back into oblivion.

"So…tired…need to…rest," came his next strained words.

"You can rest later, right now, you have to fight to live! Do you understand?" he growled, hating the way Erik's exposed side of his face was now as pale as the mask he wore. "And I swear if you go and die on me, I'm going to convince Christine to name the baby Raoul…even if it's a girl!"

This had Erik's eyes opening wide in anger and shock.

"You…would not…dare!" Erik demanded, his words just a bit slurred.

"Oh, no? Care to make a wager on that!" Amir challenged him, the sound of another siren coming closer. "So stay with us…the ambulance is on its way, I can hear it now."

"Where…where is…Christine?" Erik asked, gripping Amir's free hand as tightly as he could.

"I don't know," he admitted, looking up to see that most of the fighting was over, the sounds of gunfire having stopped rather suddenly. "But I'm sure she's just fine."

It was then that Director Chaney came hurrying over, signaling the paramedics that they needed to attend to this patient first. Raoul was hot on his heels, both men coming to a halt as they stared down at Erik and Amir.

"How is he?" Phil asked, his voice thick with concern.

"Hanging on," Amir answered. "But Christine needs to be here…now! Where is she?"

"He said he hid her in a closet someplace in the back of the warehouse…I'll go find her," Raoul told them, turning and running off towards the building.

Phil signaled for a few officers to follow him, just in case his little brother got into any more trouble on the way. Which in his mind, was highly likely, giving Raoul's track record.

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Christine had heard the gunfire cease, but still remained right where Erik had put her. She was through disobeying his orders, for each time she did, she caused more problems than solved. She would sit there on that cold floor all night if needs be, waiting for him to come fetch her. Yet as she heard the sound of approaching footsteps, her heart sank. Those were not Erik's…they were too erratic and not the long purposeful strides of her husband. What had he said? _If anyone but him opens that door…shoot to kill_? Christine was not sure she could do that, but she was not about to be taken without a fight, that was for sure. So holding the gun with both of her shaking hands, she pointed it at the door and waited.

Seconds later, the door did indeed fly open, the light from the other room pouring in and temporarily blinding her. Yet the second her mind registered that the silhouette in the doorway was not Erik's, she did as directed and fired the gun. Granted, the barrel was pointed far too high to actually hit anyone, but her hope was to frighten her assailant enough that he might think she would actually shoot to kill the next time.

"HELL, CHRISTINE!" came a familiar voice, as the figure ducked out of the way, crouching low behind the door. "It's me, damn it! It's Raoul! Don't shoot!"

"R-r-raoul?" she stammered, blinking back tears as her vision cleared enough to actually see.

"Yes, it's me…now I'm coming in, so don't kill me, alright?" He then carefully peeked around the door jam, holding up his hands in surrender. "It's all over, you're safe now."

Christine didn't know where she got the strength, but she was on her feet in seconds, rushing out the door and throwing her arms around her old friend, so very happy to see him alive. She now realized that Erik had not actually harmed him, but that didn't mean that those other men wouldn't have, and it was good to know he had survived the firefight.

"Oh, Raoul, I was so scared!" she sobbed into his shoulder, his arms holding her tightly as he patted her back in comfort. "I wasn't sure what was going on out there and then when I heard footsteps, and you opened the door, I…I…"

"It's all right, don't worry, no one's gunna hurt you, I promise," he assured her. "But right now, I need to get you out of here…Erik needs you."

"Erik? What happened? Is he hurt?" Christine could feel the panic once again rising in her as she realized that if Erik had not come for her, something must be horribly wrong. "Where is he?"

"Outside, with Mr. Dessan, but we have to hurry," Raoul insisted, reaching out to take her hand. It was then that he noticed that she still held the gun, and carefully removing it from her grip, he passed it to one of the other officers standing behind him. "Now come, I'll take you to him."

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It took very little time for Raoul and Christine to make it back to where Erik had fallen, but they arrived just in time to see the paramedics pushing him on a gurney towards the awaiting ambulance. Amir was at his side the whole way, barking out orders and telling them all he knew about Erik's wounds. When he saw Christine hurrying towards them, he forced them to stop, pushing one of them aside so that she could get to her husband.

"Erik!" she cried, her hand immediately going to the left side of his face, cradling his cheek gently. "Can you hear me? Please, my love, open your eyes."

As if unable to resist her command, Erik did as directed, focusing on her as a weak smile graced his lips.

"Christine…you are here," he whispered.

"Of course I am," she told him, doing her best to smile through her tears. "You know I have a habit of showing up at the worst of times…so I have to make up for it by arriving when you really do need me as well." She then let her eyes roam over him, her forced smile fading as she saw the blood stains on his clothes. "Oh, Erik, tell me what to do…how can I help you?"

"You are here…that is all I need," he assured her.

"No, you need to get better!" she instructed. "You know I can't live without you." Taking his hand in hers she brought it to her lips and kissed it over and over, her tears now streaming down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Erik. It's all my fault you got hurt. If I hadn't forced Raoul to bring me here tonight, none of this would have happened. Can you ever forgive me?" Yet before Erik could answer, one of the medical team stepped forward.

"Please, miss, we need to get him on oxygen," the paramedics said, holding up a clear mask hooked to a long tube. "But first, we'll need to get his face uncovered."

Erik's eyes grew wide with panic and his body jerked in reaction, causing Christine to push the man's hands away from him, putting herself between her husband and the paramedic.

"NO!" she shouted protectively. "No one touches his mask!"

"We can't help him if you won't let us do our job, miss," he explained, holding up his hands in surrender. "He needs medical attention now and a quick ride to the hospital. If we delay any longer…well…" He let his voice trail off, telling Christine all she needed to know.

"Then I'm going with him," Christine stated firmly. "And if his mask needs to come off, then at least get him inside first…where it's private."

"Only family are allowed to ride with the patient," he continued, his tone apologetic.

"I'm his wife, and I'm not leaving his side!" she stated, taking no guff from the startled man. "Now let's get going." And before they could argue, she climbed inside the back of the ambulance, just daring them to kick her out.

"Let her go, fellas," Phil instructed, holding up his badge to show his authority. "And run every light you have to in order to get there fast."

Without another word, the two other paramedics began to push Erik's gurney into the back of the ambulance, while the third raced around to the front and started the engine.

"Raoul!" Christine shouted, just before the big doors on the back of the ambulance were closed. "Here!" She pulled the small recording device Erik had given her out of her pocket, knowing the evidence stored on it would be vital to the case. "Make sure you put this to good use. Erik paid dearly to get it."

"Thank you, Christine," Raoul told her, accepting it and passing it to his more than eager brother.

Amir was left standing there, not quite sure what to do, though obviously unwilling to let Erik and Christine out of his sight.

"Take my car," Phil told Amir, tossing him the keys. "We'll mop up here and be down to see you at the hospital when we're done."

"Thanks," Amir nodded, racing for the director's car, parked nearby with both doors still standing wide open.

Then, as the two brothers watched, the emergency vehicle headed off into the night, lights and sirens blaring, and Amir only a car's length behind. Phil had to chuckle and shake his head as he watched the lights and siren begin flashing on his vehicle as well. Amir had apparently found the right buttons.

"Do you think he'll be alright?" Raoul asked, true concern on his face.

"Amir? I hope so, that's _my_ car he's driving!" Phil huffed.

"No…Erik Thorn," Raoul clarified.

"I don't know," Phil admitted, laying his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "But after everything that poor man's been through, it would be damn unfair if he died now." He then gave Raoul a scathing look. "As for _you_ …you will help me get this all cleaned up, and then we will have a very long, and very serious, talk about all the trouble you are currently in, Agent Chaney. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Director," Raoul said with a heavy sigh. He really hated it when his brother called him that…it meant no mercy.

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In the ambulance, Christine had coaxed Erik into allowing her to remove his mask, explaining to him the importance of doing so. And while he fought to stay awake, soon the pain medication they gave him, mixed with the blood loss, had knocked him out cold. To their credit, the paramedics didn't even flinch at seeing the right side of Erik's face, and they conducted themselves like professionals the entire time. They even allowed Christine to place a small towel over the mangled side when they reached the hospital, not wishing for him to be put on display as they wheeled him in through the emergency room.

Yet when they arrived at the little curtained off room in the ER, Christine was allowed to go no further, the doctors and nurses insisting that she wait outside. So, she was left standing alone, clutching Erik's mask as if it were the only thing keeping her sane, and listening to all the orders and instructions being given inside over her husband's condition. Thankfully, Amir was there in minutes, taking hold of Christine and steering her towards a set of chairs along the hallway, close enough to be on hand if needed, yet out of everyone's way.

"It's bad…isn't it, Amir?" she whispered, fear eating away at what little hope she had left.

"I've seen worse," he told her, trying to sound confident. "Don't you worry, Erik is tough. He'll pull through."

"Can you promise me that?" Christine asked, desperate for anything to hold on to.

"I can promise that he'll do everything in his power to try," was all he could guarantee. "Erik has more to live for now than ever before. He's not about to give that up easily. Just have faith, Christine, he needs that from you."

"I don't know what I'd do without him, Amir," Christine lamented, leaning her head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her tightly.

"And he would be lost without you as well," he nodded. "Thus, I think it best if you both just stay together. Alright? I mean, it would make _my_ life a whole lot easier." His little remark did the trick and he heard her give a halfhearted laugh.

"Thank you, Amir," she sniffled. "Thank you for everything."

.

.

It felt like hours before someone came out with news, telling them that they were sending Erik up for emergency surgery. The bullet to his shoulder had gone clean through and would only need a bit of stitching up and then watched for infection. However, the one he took to the back had nicked his lung and lodged itself in the left lobe of his liver, causing a great deal of internal bleeding. He had yet to regain consciousness, and they feared if they didn't act quickly, he might never do so again.

This news turned Christine a sobbing mess, with the doctors leaving Amir to hold the poor woman together while they rushed off to fix up her husband. The two were escorted to a private waiting area near the surgery center, with the promise that if there were any updates, they would be told immediately. Amir poured himself a cup of coffee, but Christine declined, having sworn off caffeine along with alcohol for the sake of the baby. Besides, she was already jittery enough, she didn't need any outside stimuli adding to it.

As the minutes ticked by, Christine paced back and forth, worry and fear nearly driving her insane. When she felt she could stand no longer, Amir directed her to a comfortable bench, insisting that she lie down and rest. He didn't suggest she sleep, since he knew that would have been foolish to do so, but he did his best to make sure she didn't wear herself out with more pacing. All the while, Christine never let go of Erik's mask, cradling it to her chest in a loving fashion.

Amir must have texted Gerald, for soon the chauffeur had found his way to the little waiting area, followed closely behind by Antoinette and Meg, all three desperate for news about Erik.

"Oh, Christine!" Meg said, rushing to her friend and sitting down, cradling her in her arms. "I'm so sorry…so very, very sorry."

"How is he?" Antoinette asked, reaching out to take hold of Amir's hand. She knew exactly how close the two men were, more like brothers than most born by blood, and from the look in Amir's eyes, she could tell he was hurting too.

"He's in surgery now," Amir told them, giving Gerald a nod of gratitude for apparently thinking to bring the two women with him. "They're attempting to dislodge a bullet from his liver, and stop the internal bleeding. His lung was nicked as well, but that's all they would tell us. We're still waiting for more news."

"It's all my fault," Christine wailed, leaning her head against Meg's shoulder. "I should have trusted him…I should have believed in him. But I had to know the truth, I had to prove that he wasn't what they thought he was. And now look at what I did! Erik might die, and it's all my fault!"

"That's nonsense!" Antoinette said in a scolding tone. "You are no more to blame for this than the piece of metal lodged inside his body. It was the men who put it there that are responsible, and no one else."

"Erik knew what he was getting into when he signed on for this," Amir agreed, doing his best to reassure Christine. "And he did exactly what he set out to accomplish. He will have no regrets, and neither should you."

Before Christine could even think about how to respond, in walked Raoul and Phil, both men looking tired and worried. The younger Chaney was also sporting a neatly wrapped bandage over his left arm, having had the paramedics take a look at it on the scene.

"We spoke to the nurse outside. She said you were all in here and that Erik had been taken to surgery," Phil said by way of greeting. "Any reports on his condition?"

"None so far," Amir informed them.

"But you know what they say, no news is good news," Gerald stated, doing his best to remain optimistic.

"That is true," Raoul nodded, his eyes going to where his girlfriend sat with Christine snuggled against her, giving them both a sympathetic smile.

"Well, _we_ have news," Phil spoke up, hoping to distract everyone for a bit. "With the recording that Erik got for us, we'll be able to put all the bad guys who survived tonight's shootout behind bars…for good. While De'Rossi, and that bastard they call the Client, are in the morgue."

"Well, most of the Client is, at least," Raoul said with a snort of derision. "While the smaller bits of him Erik fed to the fishes."

"The bottom line is that it's all over," Phil went on, giving Raoul a scathing look. "Those were the leaders of both the drug cartel and the arms ring importing weapons into New York. It doesn't mean they won't find a new way to get what they want, but we've managed to take out the current heads of their operation and cripple their organization for a while. It was a mighty blow, one that will gain us a solid foothold in our effort to eradicate their kind for good. And we have Erik Thorn to thank for it." He then stepped forward, handing a dark blazer to Amir. "Here, you left this at the docks. I thought you might need it, seeing as how you used your shirt to stop Thorn from bleeding to death."

"Thanks," the Persian replied, slipping it on over his cotton undershirt. "Erik won't be in trouble for what happened, will he?" Amir spoke up. "What he was forced to do _was_ in self-defense, and for the protection of others after all."

"I'm aware of that," Phil nodded. "There might be an investigation, but I can pretty much guarantee you that no one is going to prosecute. He was working under my jurisdiction, I'll take care of everything."

"I…I don't understand," Christine spoke up. "Raoul told me Erik was working for the mob…and now you say he was working for _you_ all this time?"

"I was wrong, Christine," Raoul admitted, stepping forward and kneeling down so that he was eye-level with her. "I should have stayed out of all of this, just like Phil told me to."

"Damn right, little brother!" Phil growled, reaching over and slapping him upside the back of the head, much like any sibling would do in a similar situation. Raoul flinched, reaching back to rub the spot where he'd been struck, but otherwise ignored his brother's reprimand.

"But I kept hearing things about your husband that unsettled me, Christine…yet all the time it was information being leaked out intentionally, in order to give him a cover-story, one that would make him sound appealing to those goons." He bowed his head, truly regretting everything he had done to sabotage the good work Erik had been doing. "I was just so worried that you'd gotten mixed up in something bad, that he was lying to you, or controlling you in some way."

"Well, that's a relief!" Meg told him in a thankful tone. "Because truth be told, I was beginning to wonder about that. But it's nice to know you were only doing it to help Christine out of a potentially bad situation, not as an attempt to get her back."

"No! Not at all, I swear, Meg!" Raoul was quick to assure her. He then gave Christine a sheepish look. "No offence, really…but I never wanted us to be more than friends, honest. Meg's the only girl for me now." He then stood and turned to Phil, looking no less remorseful. "I should have listened to you, Phil. I should have trusted that you knew what you were doing, and that you wouldn't allow someone sinister to get away with all the things I imagined Thorn was doing. If you want to fire me, I would understand, honest I would. But I learned my lesson, I swear. I know now I should never have gotten involved."

"No, you shouldn't have," Phil agreed, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at his brother menacingly for a long time, the silence seeming to make the younger man shrink down even more. "And I'm not going to fire you. However, the minute you pass your field agent's exam, I'm putting you on report and suspending you for two weeks without pay, is that clear?"

It took a moment for Raoul to process what his brother had said, but when he did, his head snapped up, hope and confusion in his eyes.

"Wait…did you say _after_ I pass my exams?" Raoul asked, not sure he heard him correctly. "You…you mean you aren't going to report me _before_ that?"

"I should! Especially after the stupid stunt you just pulled," Phil huffed. "But since it was you who alerted us to the fact that we were staking out the wrong place, and every one of those thugs could have gotten away scot free without your call…I think I could look the other way just this once. But that's all the concessions you're getting out of me, little brother. Actions have consequences, and I won't have any rogue agents in my department, are we clear on that?"

"Perfectly," Raoul said with a wide grin. "And the moment I make field agent, I will be the most obedient and by the book officer you can imagine."

"Oh…I'll believe _that_ when I see it," the FBI director said with a slight grin. "You've never been the best at following orders…not even as a child. But I'll take your word for it… _and_ hold you to it."

"I'm sorry I got you into trouble, Raoul," Christine said, cringing slightly at the thought that her friend could have actually been dismissed for his actions. "If only I'd just stayed out of it all, everyone would be better off right now."

"Not necessarily," Phil countered. "If you hadn't made Raoul take you there, no one would have known where De'Rossi and the Client had gone. So, in a sense, you did us a favor, Christine. And in time, I hope you will see that as well."

"Maybe, but Erik is the one who ended up paying for it," she pointed out regretfully. "I just want him out of surgery and healing quickly," Christine insisted. "But that still doesn't explain why Erik was working for you in the first place. How did that all come about?"

"Yes, I would like to know this as well," Antoinette spoke up. "You would think he would have thought to clue in his lawyer! How am I supposed to protect him legally, if I don't know what he's up to?" She then turned and stared at Amir quizzically. "Wait…was Director Chaney the one you called to bail _you_ out of jail the night of the charity ball?"

"That he was," Amir laughed, enjoying the look of pure shock on Raoul's face over this bit of news. "Phil, you should have seen how hot under the collar your brother got when he heard I was to be released without being charged with anything. It was all I could do not to spill the beans right then and there, just to see his reaction."

"Oh, sure," Raoul huffed. "It all makes perfect sense _now_ , but then…dang, I was positive you had someone on the inside taking bribes or something. And all along it was you, Phil? I think Christine's right, how about you telling us what was going on?"

"Well, why don't we all have a seat and get comfortable, this could take a while." Phil suggested, stepping over to pull up a chair as everyone else who was still standing did the same. "Now I don't know the whole story, and perhaps Mr. Dessan can fill in a few of the blanks, but my part in all this began about a year ago, when I realized that if we ever hoped to take down this cartel…we would need a man on the inside. And that's what led me to Erik Thorn."

* * *

 **Well, looks like Erik has a boo-boo. But everyone is there to support him.**

 **Soooo, who laughed when Raoul almost got his head blown off by Christine?**

 **And isn't Amir being a sweetheart?**

 **And Raoul is getting a second chance...he better not blow it this time. ha ha. (now the only reason he is not being fired is because I don't want Meg dating an unemployed FBI agent. So don't go blaming Phil for being to lenient...this is all me. ha ha)**

 **So now we know a little bit more about what's going on...but next comes the WHOLE story! All the secrets are coming out!**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews.**

 **Kristin:** Oh, one never knows about gunshot wounds...but I AM the type who likes happy endings. ha ha. Well, Phil slapped him upside the head a few times, and will be reprimanding him at work as well, but for the help he did give, he's cutting him a 'little' slack...upon MY request. ha ha. And they WERE watching the place the bad guys went into. They were even monitoring Erik's phone, which never moved...the bad guys just snuck out through a secret tunnel and on a boat. They can't know everything. ha ha. See, Raoul and Christine DID help. Thanks.

 **GuestWraithSnake:** Yes, you win the prize! (if there was one that is) You were right that Erik was a secret agent for the FBI. Erik is very unlikely to die...but I will not spoil the suspense. I'm glad I have been redeemed! Yippee, I do hate having readers ticked at me. ha ha. And thanks for calling off the wolf packs. Antoinette is not to be messed with! She protects her Amir. And yes, Christine still loves her boy completely. Thanks.

 **Guest RP:** Yes, Raoul is a bit on the dense side, but it was all done for the right reasons, AND he did help Erik in the end there...even saving his life. Don't blame the FBI or Phil for Raoul still being allowed to become an agent, I promise he HAS learned his lesson. I hadn't thought of having her kidnapped to force Erik's hand...oh, no, I let her do all the leg work there herself. ha ha. You wanted a water monster to come up and take out the Client on the boat...or just Erik dive in and pull him under like the siren under the opera house? ha ha. Yah...well, Raoul almost DID get shot, but she didn't shoot to kill. Christine's hormones is a good thing to blame this all on, yes. Oh boy, Nurse Christine will be Erik's undoing. Thanks.


	64. Chapter 64

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 **Thursday's chapter!**

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 **Thank you to** **MarilynKC for being my 2000th review!  
**

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 **So for those who want to know the whole story...here it is.**

 **And remember ~XXX~ mean's a flashback.**

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 **Chapter 64**

 **~X~**

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"I had decided that Erik Thorn was my best bet," Phil continued, having thoroughly captured everyone's attention. "For years I had heard rumors and whispers about a masked vigilante of sorts, taking on jobs that others wouldn't touch, and getting things done…for a price. No one was ever able to pin him down, and then suddenly…he just vanished, completely off our radar. However, I never forgot about him. Then after I became Regional Director, and found myself in need of someone who could infiltrate the mob, my mind drifted back to the masked man whom many had referred to as The Phantom."

 _"The Phantom?"_ Christine broke in, her eyes wide with recognition. "Erik once told me _that_ used to be something people called him…in his past."

"And it wasn't a big leap to deduce that the masked man behind Phantom Industries was more than likely the same man," Phil nodded, looking rather pleased with himself. "However, all I had to go on was a hunch, and a weak one at best. So, with no solid proof, and no leverage with which to encourage Erik to help me out, I did the next best thing. I approached Mr. Dessan."

"And I believe my response was to laugh in your face," Amir chuckled, recalling his first meeting with Director Chaney, waiting in line outside a Starbuck's coffee house. Phil had struck up a casual conversation, but eventually, when the crowd died down, he got to the point, introducing himself and laying out his offer. Amir had not only laughed at such a wild suggestion, but assured him that he was barking up the wrong tree where Erik was concerned. He then told him, in no uncertain terms, to not bother them again.

"Yes…our initial encounter did not go well," he agreed, a slight grin coming to his lips. "However, I never gave up, regardless of the thinly veiled threats. And every now and then, I would discreetly make contact with Amir, and restate my proposal. And each time, he would tell me that Erik was not interested, to stop bothering them, and just leave them alone. So you can imagine my shock, when out of the blue, I got a call from Thorn himself, asking to meet with _me_. Of course I was a bit warry, wondering if I had pushed too far and he was going to try and take me out himself, but I agree to a meeting. That was a little over three months ago, and he's been working undercover for me ever since."

"Why did he change his mind?" Christine asked, wishing to know what had prompted Erik to suddenly want to help.

"He did it for you," Amir answered, reaching over and patting her hand gently. "Up until then, Erik had no interest in joining forces with the police…or with De'Rossi and his gang for that matter. Erik preferred to work alone, and not affiliate himself with any organization, good or bad. He liked being his own boss and answering to no one. He had gone to that meeting at Raffie's place as a simple courtesy, nothing more, with every intention of turning down the mob's offer for the millionth time. But that night, after he left the restaurant, Erik called me up, demanding that I give him Chaney's number, going on and on about how things had to change, how _he_ had to change…and was determined to see it done."

"You…you mean he agreed to all this the first night we met?" she gasped. "But…we hardly spoke at all, and he knew nothing about me."

"He knew enough," Amir smiled. "He and I have not always been, well, model citizens you might say. Though thankfully I can tell you that we never crossed any lines we couldn't come back from. But those past sins weighed on Erik, and he knew if he ever wanted to feel worthy of you, Christine, he needed to find a way to make atonement for them. To him, working with Phil to take down De'Rossi and his gang seemed the best way to go about it. And in exchange, Phil promised that all our past criminal charges would all be expunged. Our slates would be clean."

"Unfortunately, as a condition to all this, I had to demand his vow of absolute silence on the matter, for should anyone learn that he was working undercover…the results could have been disastrous," Phil told them, looking directly at Christine in sympathy. "It was my fault that he was forced to keep this from you…it was not by his own choice."

"He…he told me several times that what he was hiding was for my protection," she nodded, wiping at her eyes as her tears began to fall once again. "He was doing all this for me, and in return, all I did was hound him for the truth…a truth he was unable to share."

"There was no way you could have known," Antoinette was quick to assure her. "And I'm certain Erik realized this. He kept us _all_ in the dark."

"Even me," Gerald added. "I've worked for him for years, and drove him everywhere, but not once did I suspect a thing! Mr. Thorn is good at keeping secrets."

"But he didn't want to hide anything from you, Christine," Amir told her seriously. "And it got harder and harder for him the closer you two became. He hated lying to you, deceiving you with outright lies, or through omission."

"Like…when you two said you got in a bar fight?" Christine asked, her mind now seeing so many things in a different light. "That's not what happened that night…was it?"

"No." Amir admitted, sounding guilty. "But in Erik's defense, the whole bar fight thing was my lame idea."

"So, what _did_ happened? How did Erik get hurt, and why did his clothes smell like fireworks?" she questioned.

"I'm afraid that was because of me," Phil spoke up, drawing everyone's attention once more. "Erik got injured that night while saving _my_ life."

"He what? How?" Raoul gasped, looking up at his brother with wide eyes.

"When De'Rossi ordered that hit on me, and had a bomb placed inside my car…it was Erik who arrived just in time to pull me out before it exploded," Phil revealed.

"He did?" Christine felt a swell of pride grow within her. How could she ever have doubted him? Erik was a hero!

"I left work later than usual that night, since we had been able to confiscate some goods being smuggled into the city, and there was a lot of paperwork to take care of before I headed home," the older Mr. Chaney explained. "I made it to the parking garage, got inside my car and turned the ignition…and that's when I knew something was wrong. Instantly all my doors locked, trapping me inside, and instead of the engine starting, I heard a hissing noise as gas fumes began to pour in through the air vents, nearly choking me. I knew I had only seconds before something would ignite it all and send me up in flames, but before I could even think of reacting, my car window was hit from the outside, shattering the glass, and Thorn was grabbing me by the front of my jacket with both hands."

"You've never seen Erik drive as fast as he did getting from the meeting place that night to the FBI parking garage," Amir broke in. "If he'd slowed down even once, we never would have made it in time."

"Thankfully, you did," Phil nodded in gratitude. "Erik managed to yank me out of the car and drag me far enough away just before it blew. We were both thrown to the ground by the force of the blast, peppered by projectiles and covered in debris. Most of my wounds were superficial, but Erik took a piece of exploding metal to the side. I tried to convince him to go to the hospital, but he refused, claiming that it might compromise the operation, and Amir promised he would see to his care." He looked over at the Persian, raising an eyebrow. "I take it you're trained in administering first aid?"

"Ehhh," Amir hedged, holding up his hand and waffling it back and forth as if to say only so-so. "If you ask Erik, he'll say I stitch like a sailor repairing canvas, but I get the job done."

"Well, you must have done well enough that night, because I checked, and my informants told me that Erik was at work the following day…looking no worse for wear," Phil complimented.

"So, all this time, it wasn't Thorn that tried to kill you…he was the one that _saved_ you!" Raoul moaned, leaning his head back against the chair and closing his eyes in shame. "And I was such a blooming ass to the man! I'm surprised he didn't kill me when he had the chance tonight, after all the grief I gave him."

"I, for one, wouldn't have held it against him if he had," Amir snorted, earning a scowl from Raoul.

"Now stop, Amir," Antoinette chided. "He knew no more than the rest of us, and he was only trying to protect Christine from what he thought was a viable threat." At her words, Meg gave her mother a smile of gratitude. "And knowing Mr. Thorn the way I do, I am willing to bet he enjoyed playing the role of a bad guy to the hilt."

"Did you truly think I was in danger, Raoul?" Christine asked her now sick looking friend. "Did you honestly believe Erik was a threat to me?"

"What was I supposed to think?" he muttered, still sounding rather upset with himself. "He hovered over you like a hawk, had you followed, barricaded you inside a nearly impenetrable fortress, and threatened me with bodily harm if I came anywhere near you. I'm willing to bet you didn't know he intercepted a text I sent you, answered in your place, and set up a meeting with me in a secluded parking garage…did you?"

"He what?" This was indeed news to Christine. "When?"

"Not long after the charity ball," Raoul explained.

"So…that's what you meant when you asked if it was really me on the other end of that text!" Christine deduced. "Why did he pretend to be me? What did he say to you when you met?"

"The usual stuff, like how it was in my best interest to stay away from you," Raoul said, his expression turning to one of shame. "And…in the heat of the moment, I might have made some wild accusations about him being a danger to you…and then I grabbed hold of him…"

"You what?" Both Amir and Phil shouted in unison, shocked by the boy's utter stupidity.

"He could have killed you!" Amir added.

"You should know better than that, Raoul! Never go meeting anyone without back up!" Phil growled, giving him another slap on the back of his head while glaring at his little brother.

"Yah…I kind of thought the same thing, especially while he was choking me," Raoul admitted, cringing just a bit at the heat of Phil's stare. "But how was I to know? You never said a word, except to tell me to back off and leave him and Christine alone."

"And that should have been enough!" Phil reprimanded. "Little brother, after all the blunders you've made thus far, I'm amazed you're still alive!"

"Well, I'm glad he is!" Meg insisted, rising from her seat by Christine and taking the spot beside Raoul, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his cheek in sympathy. "And he was only doing what he thought was right. He wasn't given any more of the facts than most of us here. So, stop picking on him!"

Raoul's cheeks turned a bit pink at Meg's defense of him, but he smiled at her loving gesture, putting his arm around her in gratitude.

"No…Raoul is no more to blame than me," Christine spoke up. "Less than me in fact, since he doesn't know Erik like I do. I should have trusted him more, been less of a nosy pest…and just believed him when he said it was none of my business."

"Again, his inability to tell you these things was my doing," Phil apologized. "I just couldn't risk anyone finding out. Not only would it have put Erik in danger, but those close to him as well, and he didn't want you anywhere near what was going on." He gave her a warm smile. "Erik told me about you two becoming parents, and that only spurred him on all the more. He said he wanted to make this world a safer place for his son or daughter to live in. That no sacrifice was too great for the ones he loved the most."

"I married the most wonderful man in the world," Christine stated, hugging the mask to her chest once more.

"And you know what, when Erik is feeling better and hears that you said so…I think that egomaniac would actually agree with you," Amir said, sounding deadly serious, but with a slight grin and a twinkle in his eye.

This of course caused everyone to laugh, even Christine, grateful for her Persian bodyguard's eternal optimism and comedic timing.

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Everyone stayed and talked until the doctor came in at last, looking worn out and pulling the blue cap off his head as he entered.

"Mrs. Thorn?" he said, glancing around at all the eager faces.

"Here!" Christine called, standing up and stepping towards him hesitantly. "Is…is my husband going to be all right?"

"He came through the surgery well. We were able to stop the bleeding and remove the bullet," he told her. "It was a delicate surgery, but your husband is strong and shows an almost superhuman will to live. He's in recovery now, and we need to monitor him closely for a while, but if he continues on the way he is…I believe it's safe to say he will make a full recovery."

Christine nearly collapsed with relief then and there, and only Amir's quick action stopped her from sinking to the floor. Holding her up, he pulled her to him in a warm embrace.

"Can…can I see him?" she asked through her tears.

"Not for a few hours at least, and he won't be awake before then anyway," the doctor said with a shake of his head. "But the moment we move him into a room in ICU, we will come get you. Alright?"

"Thank you…thank you so much, Doctor," Christine blubbered.

"It's my pleasure, Mrs. Thorn," he told her, reaching out to place his hand on her shoulder. "Your husband has donated a lot of money to the hospitals of New York over the past ten years. We've been able to save a lot of lives due to his generosity…I'm just happy I could return the favor." He then dug into his scrub's pocket and handed her a business card. "There are no current advancements in skin grafting that might help your husband with his birth defect…but please rest assured, if I hear of anything, I will be in touch." And then with one final encouraging smile, he left.

.

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The pallor over the room had lifted considerably after the doctor had gone, his news bringing a sigh of relief to everyone there. However, it wasn't long before a sleepy yawn from Meg prompted a few of them to rise to their feet, announcing that they should go. Phil handed Christine's keys to the Persian, accepting his own set in return, having kindly brought her SUV to the hospital from the docks. Raoul offered to see Meg home, while Antoinette chose to remain with Christine and Amir.

"Don't worry," Phil said, giving Antoinette a little wink. "I'll keep an eye on them."

"I should hope so," Amir said, his eyes narrowing on Raoul with suspicion. "He's not the brightest bulb, that one."

"Hey! I thought we were all on the same side now," the younger man huffed. "Can't we put the past behind us and just be friends?"

"You're dating the daughter of my girlfriend…we'll never be friends, boy," Amir informed him, a sly grin on his face.

This earned an exasperated sigh from Raoul, but a slight giggle from Meg, who took him by the hand and pulled him out of the room, waving her farewells to all as they went. Phil followed with an amused chuckle, shaking his head at it all.

Now all that remained were Christine, Amir, Antoinette, and Gerald, the four in no hurry to go anywhere. However, as she looked down at the mask in her hand, something suddenly occurred to Christine.

"Gerald…would you be willing to do me and Erik a big favor?" she asked hopefully.

"Anything, Mrs. Thorn, you know that," he assured her, ready to leap into action.

"I doubt they are going to let Erik wear one of his usual masks here at the hospital, but I bet one of his sleeping masks would be acceptable, it being more pliable and all," she reasoned. "Would you please go back to the house and get one for him…maybe two?"

"Of course," he nodded, more than happy to be of help. "Is there anything else you need?"

"Well, I suppose a change of clothes for me would be nice as well," she mused, looking down at her pants, now dusty and smeared with dirt from the evening's activities.

When Gerald appeared a bit hesitant about picking out clothes for his boss' wife, Antoinette stepped in to rescue him.

"I'll go with him and fetch what you need," she offered, causing Gerald to sigh with relief. "We'll be back in no time, but you get some rest while we're gone, sweetheart. You look exhausted, and that can't be good for the baby."

"I'll try," she promised, feeling a wave of fatigue washing over her.

Antoinette leaned down and gave Christine a hug, whispering a few words of encouragement in her ear, before she and Gerald left the room.

"Erik is very lucky to have such loyal friends," she mused.

"They're loyal to you as well," Amir corrected. "In fact, I'm willing to bet if forced to choose between the two of you, they'd pick you every time. I know _I_ would."

"I won't tell Erik you said that," she chuckled, letting out a big yawn herself.

"Hold on, I'll be right back," he said, getting up and leaving the room. When he returned a minute later, he held a pillow and a blanket in his hands, gesturing for Christine to lay down on the cushioned bench seat again. "Antoinette gave you an order, and I am fully aware that she is not one you want to cross."

"Smart man," she smiled, accepting the pillow and lying down as he covered her up. "I'm glad you two are officially a couple. You both seem a lot happier now that you're together."

"It still amazes me that she's willing to take on a sorry bloke like me, especially after what she went through with Meg's father," he admitted. "Annie deserves better, but I'm not about to pass up the chance if she's willing."

"Oh, I think she's more than willing," Christine assured him. She closed her eyes and did her best to relax her mind, hoping that sleep would come. But try as she might, she was unable to drift off. "Amir?" she asked, aware that he was still wide awake as well, sitting in a chair near her head. "Can you just talk to me for a while?"

"About what?" he asked.

"I don't know…tell me something about Erik's past," she suggested. "Oh, wait, I know…tell me how he and Gerald met. He said he's been working for Erik for a long time, but how did he get the job as his driver? Did Erik place an ad or something?"

"No, not exactly," Amir laughed, leaning back in the chair and stretching out his legs to get comfortable. "Erik and Gerald met in a rather odd way, and I'm not quite sure how the subject of him becoming his chauffeur came up."

"Oh? How did they meet?" Christine asked, now wanting to hear the story very much.

"Well…it was nearly eight years ago, I would say," Amir began. "Phantom Industries was up and running, but every now and then Erik was called upon to take care of a little unfinished business left over from our previous form of employment. I was currently living with a girlfriend of mine named…umm…damn it, why can I never remember that crazy woman's name?" he grumbled. After a moment of thought, he waved it off as unimportant and continued his story. "Anyway, one evening, Erik asked to borrow my car, and like a fool I gave him the keys, having no idea where he was going or why he required it. And that's when it all went to hell in a hand-basket…"

~XXX~

The pounding on the front door of the little house he and his girlfriend were currently sharing sounded like thunder as it shook the walls, causing Amir to jump out of bed and quickly pull on his sleeping trousers. Stumbling to the door, still not fully awake, he knew exactly who it was disturbing him at this ungodly hour. No one but Erik knocked on a door like that.

"WHAT?" he barked, pulling it open and seeing exactly the man he expected, standing there with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

"I'm returning your car," Erik informed him.

"And this couldn't have waited till morning?" Amir asked with a yawn.

"I did not wish to tie up the tow truck and driver any longer than necessary," Erik explained, as if it made perfect sense.

"Tow truck…driver…? What?" Amir was now wide awake, and it was then that he noticed the service vehicle parked there on the street, its warning lights flashing, and a completely demolished car hanging off the lift behind it. "MY CAR! What did you do to my car?" Amir cried out, taking a step out of the door as his hands went to his head in shock. "You killed Daisy!"

"It was a mercy killing, really. The thing drove like a tank and did not corner worth a damn," he explained, making it sound as if the car was solely to blame. "It was only due to my excellent driving skills that I made it out of the crash alive."

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" Amir demanded, ignoring everything but the fact that his car looked as if it had been wrapped around a tree or something.

"I was forced off the road while evading a few unsavory characters," he explained with a shrug. "I succeeded, of course, however your car didn't fare as well." He then held up his other hand, a string draped over one finger upon which a pair of fuzzy black and white dice dangled. "I saved these for you though…and honestly, I think they were the best part of the entire vehicle."

Just as Amir reached out to take them off Erik's hand - looking like he wanted to wrap them around the masked man's neck - there came a loud crashing noise, as his car was released from the hook and chain on the boom of the tow truck.

"What do you expect me to do with that…that…junk pile now?" Amir asked, his mouth still hanging open in shock.

"Gerald says it's only good for scrap at this point," Erik said with a shrug of indifference.

"Gerald…who the hell is Gerald?" he questioned, attempting to focus on anything but his beloved car…now dead on the street in front of him.

"He's the tow truck driver, of course," Erik responded, acting as if Amir was asking foolish questions. "He is a boxing instructor during the day, and drives a tow truck at night. He's the one who pulled your car up the embankment I drove it off of. I think I am going to hire him as a driver though, he is apparently drowning in debt and is looking for a more lucrative career. And he knows how to fight, so he might be handy in a pinch. I think you will like him."

"If he drives any better than you, I _know_ I will!" Amir fumed.

"Oh, calm down," Erik huffed. "I will buy you a new car, if only to put an end to your whining."

"You better!" Amir barked back.

Just then the large bald-headed man approached the two from behind, dressed in overalls, with a smudge of grease across his forehead.

"All unloaded, Mr. Thorn," the man named Gerald informed him. He then held out a set of keys to Amir. "Sorry about your car, Mister," he said, sounding genuinely sympathetic. "I bet she was once a really smooth ride."

"She…she was," Amir nodded, taking the keys and looking at them sadly.

"Need a ride home, Mr. Thorn?" Gerald then asked. "If I'm gunna be working for you, I suspect I should know where I'll need to pick you up."

"Very good," Erik nodded, looking back at his still stunned friend. Giving a sigh of frustration, he pulled out his wallet and took out a hundred-dollar bill, handing it over to the despondent Persian. "There…that should help soften the blow until you can go car hunting."

"And it's going to be a fancy car too!" Amir assured him. "Fancy and very, very expensive! And I'm going to get the full package too, with chrome wheels, seat warmers, and all the bells and whistles…do you hear me?"

"Yes, yes, whatever," Erik said with a roll of his eyes. "See you tomorrow."

"And exactly how am I to get to work, now that you've ruined my only means of transportation?" he demanded.

"Gerald will be by to pick you up, of course," Erik told him. "Were you not paying attention…we have an official driver now."

"And what, pray tell, will _he_ be driving?" was Amir's next question.

"The limousine I purchased the other day," Erik said matter of factly. "I knew I couldn't keep borrowing _your_ vehicle whenever I wanted to get someplace. But who knows, perhaps I will invest in a car or two for myself. Something fast…and sporty." And then with only a wave, he turned and headed back towards the awaiting tow truck.

Gerald gave Amir a somewhat confused shrug, and then followed his new boss down the walkway.

~XXX~

"And that's the story of how Gerald started working for Erik…and the reason I will never let him borrow my car again," Amir finished, chuckling to himself. They had come a long way, been through a lot, and he would do just about anything for his masked friend…but he drew the line at letting him get behind the wheel of any vehicle he owned.

When Christine didn't respond to the end of his story, Amir looked down at her curiously, seeing that she was now sound asleep. Reaching out he pulled the blanket up a little further on her shoulder, giving it an affectionate pat. "Sweet dreams, Christine. Heaven knows you deserve them with all the crap Erik puts you through…what he puts us _both_ through." He then leaned his head back against the wall and closed his own eyes, a relieved smile on his face. "But…I guess that troublesome man's worth it." And within minutes, Amir was asleep as well.

* * *

 **First of all, my thanks to _The English Phantom_ , for her adorable idea of having Gerald's story tie in with how Erik destroyed Amir's car. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.**

 **So now you all know everything...and looks like Erik will pull through.**

 **Wasn't Erik a super hero, pulling Phil out of the car just in time?**

 **And can you all now see the reason he had to do this was so he could "have Christine" since if not, he didn't feel worthy...and he always would worry about someone coming after him for his past crimes...but now Phil will wipe his slate clean.**

 **Amir is such an excellent friend.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Cayla: (from 62)** Yep, Erik IS the hero! He forgives you for doubting him. For a while, he was a bit doubtful himself. ha ha. Yep, he saved Phil. And Phil bailed out Amir. Well, if you were on a rampage thinking Erik was a bad guy...you really can't blame Raoul for thinking the same thing, now can you? I'm glad you can see all the pieces falling into place...I worked very hard to set up this house of cards. Erik did have fun freaking Raoul out, and probably cutting him too, but he did save his life. And yes, my Star Wars knowledge has been laying dormant for many a moon...good to take it out and put it to good use as well. Thanks. **(63)** Yes, she didn't want to kill anyone, good or bad, and certainly not Raoul. ha ha. No I don't see Erik and Christine fighting after this...well maybe over the covers and who loves each other the most. ha ha. Oh yes, there is no way to stop the bickering and jabs even when Erik is dying and Amir is trying to keep him alive. Oh yes, everyone is there to support Erik. He needs it. Oh, Raoul will get his dream job and mature nicely. Fear not. He really IS a good guy at heart, he was just over zealous about helping Chrsitine out of a potentially bad situation. Thanks.

 **Bleaky:** *rolls yes* I told you not to throw it. But at least it wasn't because of the chapter...WAS IT? ha ha. But I AM posting daily, so you won't hang on the cliff for long. Promise. Thanks

 **Guest: (from 62)** Yes, very mean. But I'm not that kind of writer. ha ha.

 **Kristin:** Oh yes, Raoul got smacked and soooo deserved it. I love happy endings too. You will find out Erik's motivations in chapter 64. Thanks!

 **GuestRP:** Ha ha, Erik as a merman...slippery, but sexy. Amir is the one who loves mermaids though...not Erik. ha ha. Yep, that is exactly how it was...Phil Gib-slapped Raoul. Hey, I will even ask Mark Harmon to play Phil in the movie version of this...IF anyone out there wants to make a movie OF it...I'm willing to sell the screen play! ha ha. Yes, they will trade cars, Phil wants HIS back too. Amir is good at knowing what to do in every situation...he learned that from hanging out with Erik so many years. Raoulina? Ewwww, horrible name. ha ha. Amira is cute though. There will be lots of apologies and forgiveness, trust me. Hmmm, that's a good question...who IS footing the medical bills? I'm sure Erik has excellent insurance, and Phil can get the FBI to cover the deductible and co-pays. ha ha. Yes, Erik is tough...and he has a LOT to live for now. Thanks.

 **GuestWraithSnake:** Well...I TRY to be on top of things. That's what happens when you get a bonus and a regular chapter so close together. Brag all you want, you were smart and figured it out. They Dr. Will indeed be very professional about it all, and he even credited Erik with saving lives with his donations. Raoul didn't trust Erik, but really, look at all those readers who thought Erik was a bad guy for a while. Erik is good at keeping secrets you know, so really, can you blame anyone for not knowing what he was up to? Erik appreciates your get well wishes, and he too does not care for surgeries or being laid up. Thanks.


	65. Chapter 65

.

 **Friday's Chapter!**

 **I know some of you were disappointed that Erik was not in the last chapter - other than in the little flashback - so I hope this makes up for that.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 65**

 **~X~**

* * *

Erik was completely exhausted, feeling as if he had been running in mud for days, expending copious amounts of energy, with little to no progress. He only wanted to lie down and rest, to sleep for a year, and then nap for several more. But his mind was adamant that he had to keep going…that he needed to find something…yet he couldn't remember what it was.

Everywhere he looked was darkness, with an icy wind blasting him from each side, chilling him to the bone. Still, he struggled on, heading in no particular direction…until he heard it. A sound both sweet and heartbreaking…someone was crying. But why? Erik was drawn to the sound, the sorrowful voice beckoning him forward, calling to him like a siren of the sea.

That's when he realized he recognized the voice _…it was Christine!_ Christine was crying! Erik knew he had to get to her, to comfort his wife, no matter how tired he was. _Christine…I can hear you…I am coming,_ he called out, wading through the mire towards her voice. And then he saw it, a shaft of light cutting through the darkness, showing him the way. With what Erik could only describe as his final ounce of strength, he forced his eyes open, desperate to see his precious wife's face once again.

Yet when his vision cleared and he was at last able to make out shapes, he found Christine beside him, her eyes lowered as she wept - her tears falling on his hand that she cradled in her own.

"Shhhhh," Erik managed to get out, it being all he could do to comfort her. "Do not…cry…Christine," he told her, his voice hoarse and cracking. "You know I hate…to see you…cry."

"Erik?" Christine gasped, her head snapping up as she stared in disbelief. "ERIK! You're awake!"

"Am I?" he asked, still not quite sure himself. "Every moment with you is a dream come true…so it is getting rather hard to tell."

"No, you're awake…this is all real," she assured him, her smile growing wide as she watched his eyes blink several times, adjusting to the lights above him. "Can you see me, Erik…can you feel me squeezing your hand?"

"Yes, I can feel you," he answered, his mind still a bit fuzzy from the anesthesia. "I can see you as well…my beautiful wife."

"Oh, Erik!" she cried, his words nearly making her break down all over again, but she held it together for him. "Yes, I'm right here and I'm never leaving your side again." She brought his hand she had been holding up to her lips and kissed it multiple times, so very happy to have him back with her. "I was so worried, when you blacked out in the ambulance and they couldn't wake you, I was afraid I would never get a chance to tell you again how much I love you. I'm so sorry I caused you all this pain and trouble. So very, very sorry."

"No…not your fault," he stated, his words few, but heartfelt. "Just glad you are safe. How is…the baby?"

"The baby is just fine, and so am I…now that you're awake," she smiled, touched by his concern. "The doctors say you will make a complete recovery. You'll be up in no time."

"Are the others alright? Anyone else hurt?" were his next questions.

"Everyone is fine…well, apparently not some of the bad guys, but who cares about them," Christine said with a snort of derision. "However, Amir, Phil and Raoul all made it out alive and unharmed. You're a bona-fied hero, Erik. You not only took down the mob, but you saved Raoul's life in the process."

"Do not remind me," he moaned, with a roll of his eyes. "The boy is a fool."

"Yes…but then again, so was I," she admitted sadly, lowering her eyes. "If I had just trusted you and stayed at home like you told me to…you probably wouldn't be lying here now, all stitched up and looking so pale. Can you ever forgive me, Erik? I'm so very, very sorry."

"Nothing to forgive," he insisted, squeezing her hand gently. "You are safe…baby is safe…I will heal. No need for apologies."

"Then will you at least let me tell you how much I love you?" she pleaded. "That I am so proud of you, my brave, brave husband. And when you get out of here, I will wait on you hand and foot until you are all better." She next let a playful grin cross her lips. "Then, once the doctors have cleared you for 'active duty', I'm really going to show you how much I adore you."

"Now that…is something to look forward to," he smiled, shutting his eyes as he gave a contented sigh. After a moment of silence, he opened them again, looking about the room. "Where is Amir?"

"He and Antoinette stepped out to get some coffee, they'll be back soon," she revealed. Yet instead of making him happy, the news seemed to distress him, his other hand rising shakily to his face, a series of tubes and wires trailing with it. "Erik, be careful!" Christine warned, reaching out to stop him before he pulled something loose.

 _"My…my mask,"_ he fretted, obviously terrified to be seen without it.

"Is on your face," she assured him soothingly. "They wouldn't let you wear your day one, because it got in the way of the oxygen tubes and other things, but Gerald went home and got one of your cloth sleeping masks, and I put it on you before anyone else was allowed in. Don't worry…no one saw."

"The doctors did…I am sure," he grumbled, though calmed considerably once he was able to touch the piece of black cloth and know he was effectively covered up.

"Yes, but you said you consulted with physicians in the past about your face, so this is nothing new," she maintained, doing her best to downplay the situation. When he appeared to settle, she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair in a loving fashion. "How do you feel…are you in much pain?"

"No…still feeling a nice buzz from the drugs, in fact," he said with a slight grin. "I am sure it will hurt like hell later."

"And I will be right here to hold your hand if it does," she guaranteed. "Antoinette brought me down a little overnight bag, and the nurses said when they move you into a room of your own, it will have one of those little fold down couches for me to sleep on, so I can stay with you around the clock."

"You do not need to do that," he insisted, though he was deeply grateful for the offer.

"I know I don't have to…but I _want_ to," she stressed. "You risked your life for me, Erik Thorn, and if you're not going home, neither am I. We're walking out of here together. No arguments!"

"Very well…no arguments," he nodded, perfectly content to have her beside him forever. "I…I am sorry I could not tell you what was going on, Christine."

"I know," she said with an understanding nod. "Phil Chaney explained everything, about how you had been sworn to secrecy and all."

"I did not wish for you to be in danger," he told her. "If anyone found out, and they thought you had information…I would never have forgiven myself. I just wanted to keep you safe."

"But you did it by putting yourself at risk!" she argued.

"It was worth it, if only…to be worthy of you," he whispered, a wealth of emotions in those few words. "I have done many things in my life I am ashamed of. But this…this was something I could do that would make you proud of me."

"Erik! I couldn't be more proud of you if I tried!" she told him firmly. "I admired you from the start, you didn't have to do any of this for me. I love you, Erik…so very, very much."

"And I love you," he answered with a smile, lifting his hand to stroke her cheek, cherishing her look of pure adoration.

"Erik…do you think you are feeling well enough for me to kiss you?" she asked suddenly. "Because right now, I really have the need to do so."

"That sounds like the best medicine in the world," Erik assured her, eager to have her lips on his. And when she did lean in, kissing him ever so gently, he felt one-hundred percent better.

.

.

Down the hall, Amir and Antoinette walked, hand in hand, heading back to Erik's room from the cafeteria. The picky Persian was actually pleased with the quality of their coffee, finding it comparable to some of the more expensive establishments in town.

"This is good," he mused, taking another sip. "How's yours?"

"Perfect," Antoinette assured him. "Just what I needed to perk me up."

"Thanks for staying," he said with an appreciative smile. "I'm sure you being here means a lot to Christine…I know it does to me."

"Where else would I be?" she told him with an embarrassed grin. "Phantom Industries can survive one day without either of us showing up. Besides, you know that Mr. Thorn can't do anything without me. He'd be lost otherwise."

"That is so true," Amir laughed. "But why do you always call him Mr. Thorn? You would think after working with him for so long, you'd call him Erik by now."

"Oh, heavens no!" she gasped, looking up at him in shock. "I could never do that! It would be…well…far too personal and awkward!"

This had Amir laughing even more, nodding his head as if he agreed.

"Yes, I can see what you mean. He does exude a rather stern persona." Amir concluded.

"That's one way of putting it!" she agreed. "But I've always known that down deep, he was a good man. I even told Christine this when she first married him. I would have never allowed her to do so if I thought he was anything like my first husband."

"Nor would I," Amir assured her. "But I would say things worked out well for everyone in the end."

"Indeed," Antoinette nodded. "I especially like how things worked out for us, Amir."

"Me too, Annie," he assured her, leaning over to kiss her on the temple, careful not to spill his coffee. "And perhaps now that this big sting operation is over, you and I could start spending more time together?"

"I would like that very much, Amir," Antoinette told him, giving his hand a squeeze. "And you know…it just so happens that I have a gift certificate for three nights at a fancy resort in the Hamptons."

"You do?" Amir was a bit shocked by her somewhat indecent proposal, but by no means opposed. He could tell that she was a bit embarrassed by her offer as well…but not enough to rescind the invitation. "I believe that taking a trip with you, sounds wonderful. But you know, I'm not without means, Annie. I might play the poor bachelor, but thanks to Phantom Industries, and a few good investments, I'm quite well off. I don't want you to think you're dating some deadbeat. I'm more than capable of paying my own way, as well as taking care of you…in style."

"I know," she smiled. "As Erik's lawyer, I've seen the financial statements for the business more than once. I know how the dividends are distributed. But I'm glad that you aren't frivolous with your money…or a gambler."

"No, Annie," Amir told her, stopping in the hallway and giving her a very pointed look. "I would never put you in that position again. I place more value on you than anything else. You never have to worry about me behaving in any way like your former husband."

"I know that," she smiled, leaning forward and kissing him gently on the lips. "And that's why I'm willing to take our relationship to the next level. But I'm afraid that trip will have to wait until Mr. Thorn is up and around again. I don't see how we could possibly leave while he's still recovering."

"No, it would be rather rude of us to just up and abandon him…and of course Christine, with her having to stay at home and take care of him the whole time." Amir said with a shake of his head. "The poor, poor girl."

.

.

By now they had reached the little curtained off room in ICU that Erik had been assigned to, and Amir gently pushed the fabric aside, only to be surprised by what they saw. For there was Christine, leaning over and kissing Erik, who appeared to be a lot more alert than when they left.

"Well, look who finally decided to stop lazing around," came Amir's sardonic voice from the doorway, causing both occupants to turn their gaze in his direction. "I knew you were milking it all along, Erik, just hoping that Christine would play Florence Nightingale for you. For shame!"

"We were doing just fine without your input," Erik said, doing his best to sound stern, but his voice was still a bit weak.

"It's so good to see you awake, Mr. Thorn!" Antoinette spoke up, giving Amir a little jab in the side with her elbow for his snide remark. "You had us all pretty worried."

"Yes, but it looks like you're feeling better...perhaps even more than you should. I'll go let the doctor know you're awake," Amir chuckled, ducking back out to alert the nurse that their patient was awake.

"He woke up just a few minutes ago," Christine informed Antoinette with a wide smile. "Which I think bodes well for a quick recovery."

"Well if what we just saw was any indication, I tend to agree," the dark-haired woman laughed.

In a few moments, Amir returned with the doctor, who quickly checked all of Erik's vitals, asking him a bunch of questions about how he was feeling. When he received all the answers he needed, the doctor stood back and looked at his patient with pride.

"I would say another day here in ICU, and then perhaps we can get you set up in your own room, Mr. Thorn," the doctor announced.

"When can I go home?" was Erik's only question.

"Not for at least a week, and that's only if you follow orders and heal properly," he was told in no uncertain terms. "You were very lucky that the bullet only did minimal damage to your liver and lungs. Just an inch to the left, or the right, and you would have been in a world of hurt."

"Never thought I would be thankful for Morte's incompetence and poor aim," he replied, doing his best to sound flippant, yet the joke was lost on the poor physician. When he raised his eyebrow at Erik, he just waved him off with a small grin.

"Anyway, I want to see you taking it easy for the next twenty-four hours, then we will see about getting you up and walking," he continued. "But no overdoing it, do you hear?"

"I'll make sure he goes slow, Doctor," Christine told him. "You can count on me to see he takes good care of himself."

"Excellent, it's always good to have the wife on my side," he laughed. "Now, give us another twenty-four hours to monitor your vitals, and then we'll see about moving you into a more private room. It's good to see you so alert. That's an excellent sign." And with a smile, he excused himself, leaving the four of them alone once more.

"Well, it looks like you impressed him," Amir chuckled.

"Good…the faster I get out of here the better," Erik muttered, turning just a bit and wincing as he did. "Well…perhaps a day or two of taking it easy might not be so bad."

"You will stay as long as the doctors recommend," Christine told him sternly. "I want you to heal properly, with _no_ complications. You're going to be a father soon, and I can't have you unable to play catch with your son, or have tea parties with your daughter."

"Oh, now _that_ I have to see!" Amir laughed, trying to picture Erik sipping imaginary tea from a child sized cup.

"Then I promise you a front row seat…as you will be at the top of the guest list," Erik shot back, watching his Persian friend's face fall.

"Speaking of beverages," Christine broke in, before things went south. "Are you thirsty…hungry? I'm not sure what you can have, but I'll be happy to go ask if you want something."

"No…I think I simply need to sleep a bit more," he informed her, his speech getting a bit slower and his eyelids starting to droop. But before he shut them completely, he reached out and grabbed Christine's hand in an almost desperate gesture. "You will be here when I wake up though…right?"

"Yes, Erik," Christine assured him, leaning in to kiss his forehead lovingly. "I'm not going anywhere." And she meant it too. Christine was determined never to be apart from this man again…not if she could help it.

.

.

True to her word, the next time Erik awoke, she was there to greet him, her warm smile doing wonders for his aches and pains. It hurt a bit to breathe deeply, the puncture in his lung going to take a while to heal, and his back still felt like he had a knife jabbed hilt-deep in his flesh, but other than that…he still felt miserable. Thankfully, the medication they gave him took the edge off, allowing him to sleep comfortably and deal with the aches when he was awake. Christine did all she could to keep him entertained and his mind occupied, knowing that lying around was not something Erik was used to doing. He was a man of action, yet even he was wise enough to realize the importance of not overdoing it and risk reopening his wounds.

.

.

"So, that was when I heard footsteps heading my way…and I knew it wasn't you by the sound," Christine was telling him, relating her version of the night's events. "Thankfully, I was far too scared to follow your directions exactly…I mean there was no way I could bring myself to actually kill anyone!"

"Would have served that pesky boy right, after all the trouble he caused," Erik said with a devilish grin. "And, it might make him think twice about meeting with women in closets, as well." Here he actually tried to laugh, but the action caused him to hiss in pain, the effort aggravating his condition.

"Oh, Erik, be careful," Christine fussed, leaning in and doing what she could to ease his discomfort. "But it serves you right…you shouldn't make fun of Raoul. He was only doing what he thought was right. And if I didn't even know what you were really up to, how in the world was he supposed to?"

"He should have listened to his brother and kept his nose out of things," he huffed. "And that's exactly what I told Phil, that afternoon when Raoul came to the house to see you."

"You mean when you and Amir raced out so quickly?" Christine asked, thinking back to the events of that day. "Right after you kissed me for the first time?"

"Yes…and believe me, the last thing I wanted to do was leave you after _that!"_ Erik assured her. "But there was damage control to take care of…not only with Phil, but with De'Rossi and the others. Having an FBI agent show up at my house could have ruined everything, and I had to explain things right away or else they would become suspicious."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she moaned. "Looking back now, I can see how I could have messed things up for you so many times!"

"I do not blame you, my love," he assured her. "I blame that boy."

"Erik…if you can't find it in your heart to forgive Raoul for his blunders, how can I ever believe you have forgiven me for mine?" she asked, her face looking sad and serious. "Please…can't you just, I don't know…overlook the past and move on?"

"And what?" Erik asked skeptically. "Become friends? Impossible! That boy hurt you once, Christine. He cheated on you and made you cry!"

"But, if he hadn't," she was quick to point out. "Perhaps we would have continued dating…and we might have grown closer, and then got married. If you think about it, his actions actually did us both a favor."

Erik was silent for a bit, apparently the thought of Christine now being Mrs. Raoul Chaney was so much more terrible than the idea of him and the boy being cordial to one another.

"I will not be his friend," Erik stated firmly, but then, after a long sigh, he added, "However…I might be able to tolerate him, if he does not try to engage me in conversation terribly often."

"He and Meg _are_ a couple right now, and she _is_ my best friend," Christine reminded him. "So, you might be called upon to interact with him from time to time."

"Very well," he grumbled. "If it will make you happy, I will attempt to be civil."

"It will make me very happy!" she grinned, leaning in to kiss him gently, rewarding him for his compliance. She then sat back and looked at him thoughtfully. "So…every time you ran off unexpectedly, was it to meet with Phil…or the mob?"

"I would say half and half," Erik confessed. "It was the FBI who required my immediate attention the night I took you to the Met. Phil had called Amir, telling him I needed to meet with them right away, and I have to say his timing couldn't have been better. I had no idea what I was going to say to you after I reacted so horribly over that little slip with my mask. Again, I didn't want to leave you confused or upset, but I needed that extra time to gather my thoughts and decide how I should apologize to you."

"There was no need to apologize," she told him. "I was the one who felt bad that I had startled you like that, ruining such a perfect evening and all." She then blushed just a bit, averting her eyes as she spoke her next words. "You know…I had already decided that was going to be _the night_ …or at least I had planned on offering for it to be, if you would have accepted."

"YOU WHAT?" Erik's eyes grew wide and he attempted to sit up, once more paying the price for his sudden movement. Hissing in pain, he lowered himself down on the pillow, aided by Christine's gentle touch. "Oh, what a fool I was! I am glad I did not know that then, I would have probably slit my own throat for being such an idiot! I swear woman, I was about to go stir crazy waiting so long to have you. Keeping my hands off you was a Herculean task to be sure!"

"And I appreciate your restraint very much," she giggled. "Besides, I think we picked the perfect time to fulfil the contract…don't you?"

"Every time is the perfect time with you, my love," he insisted, reaching out to take her hand and bring it to his lips for a kiss. "And I never want to hear you mention that blasted contract ever again, Christine. It is destroyed!"

"And thank you for that as well," she smiled. "It meant a great deal to me that you set it on fire the other night. I just wish you had been able to stick around so we could talk. I was so hurt and confused by your insistence on leaving, but now, knowing what I do now, I completely understand."

"I wished with all my heart I could have explained," he lamented. "So many times I nearly blurted out the truth to you…but I knew I could not. I was being given one chance to wipe my slate clean, and I was not about to mess that up and run the risk of losing you. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Erik…just as you've said _I_ have nothing to apologize for…I say the same as well," she told him firmly. Yet then her brows furrowed together. "The past is the past, it doesn't matter to me. However, just so we can put all the secrets to rest, can you tell me exactly what it was you felt you needed to make atonement for? I mean…how _did_ you become a billionaire? Will you tell me?"

"Yes, Christine," Erik told her, sounding quite remorseful. "Though I fear you will undoubtedly think less of me once you have heard the details. Because, as you have said…we should no longer have any secrets between us." He took a deep breath and began to speak, telling her of every job and form of employment he ever had, from his days as a pick-pocket on the streets as a child, to working for Amir's father as a spy and informant. "He was a cruel man, Christine, one who showed little regard for his allies, and no mercy to his enemies. And though I never took part in any killing, just being associated with him and his organization drove me further down the path to sin. But then, after Roshni…well, let us just say I hit rock bottom, believing that there would never be anyone in my life who might truly love me, so why bother with morality."

"Oh, Erik," Christine moaned, squeezing his hand in hopes of assuring him of her love.

"Amir's irritating sense of right and wrong kept me from spiraling into a truly debauched life, however" Erik continued. "But that did not stop us from taking jobs that others found distasteful…or too dangerous. I recovered things for people, stole things from others, and threatened quite a few to get what I wanted…money and power. When one does not care what others think of him, it is rather easy to acquire things in this world, and that's exactly what I did. Yet, nothing we did ever harmed the innocent, never dealing in weapons or drugs, and from its inception, Phantom Industries has been nothing but legitimate. Granted, the money it took to start the business was a bit, shall we say… _dirty_? But once it began to successfully turn a profit, not once have I been forced to stoop to returning to that loathsome way of life." He then looked down, not meeting Christine's eyes. "Unless you count the time I bullied a pretty little waitress into becoming my wife. But I am not at all sorry for that, and I would do it again in a heartbeat." Erik paused for a moment, fearful that he might have revealed too much. "Do you hate me, Christine? Am I now unlovable?"

"Your slate is clean as far as I'm concerned, Erik. I love you, now, and forever." And to prove it, she leaned in and kissed him, enjoying how he leaned in to kiss her back. "Besides, even if some of the things you did were wrong, you and Amir helped out Antoinette and Meg when they had no one else to turn to. For that alone, I do hereby absolve you of everything." It was then that something occurred to Christine, something she had previously been very excited to tell him. So, reaching out she placed Erik's hand over her small baby bump. "And I have some good news to share with you."

"Good news would be most welcome right now," he smiled, knowing that lately he had been offering Christine nothing but grief.

"Doctor Brooks called the other day…" here she paused, watching as Erik sat up a bit, his eyes growing wide with a mixture of hope and worry mirrored there. "She said all the test came back negative. Jr. is in perfect health, no abnormalities detected."

"Oh, Christine," Erik nearly sobbed, laying his head back against the pillow and closing his eyes in utter relief. "I was so worried…so afraid I might pass on this curse to our little one."

"Erik, you know it would never make a difference to me either way," Christine insisted. "But yes, it is a wonderful thing to know that our baby is just fine.

"And I swear, from this day on, no more secrets," Erik swore. "You and I will have that open marriage you always wanted." When she raised an eyebrow in humor, he chuckled. "Not that kind of open marriage, and you know it."

"Yes, of course," she nodded, leaning in to kiss his lips. "Besides, you know I never want anyone but you. You, Erik Thorn, are all that I will ever need…you and Jr. here."

"And you two are all I will ever want as well," Erik assured her. "We will finally be one big, happy family, Christine. And I, for one, cannot wait!"

.

.

However, despite Christine's insistence that she was going to stay by his side at all times, she _was_ forced to leave the hospital for short periods…mostly at Erik's own insistence. While she slept on the little couch in his hospital room, and ate every meal with him, Erik maintained that she still needed to visit her father, as well as go home occasionally to shower and get more clothes. At first Christine argued with him, but after seeing how adamant he was, not to mention that she did wish to see her father, she at last relented. Gerald was only too happy to drive her around, leaving Amir to sit with Erik in her absence. They played cards, watched television, or just talked, whiling away the time between the hourly visits by the nurses.

"Now, just so you know," Amir told him after Christine had left for a bit during Erik's third day of his medical incarceration. "I won't be around as much after today."

"And why is that?" Erik inquired, raising an eyebrow at his friend.

"I think it's time for me to step into your shoes and handle things at Phantom Industries while you're away," he explained. "Antoinette needs help keeping things going, and it's probably time I took an interest in the business. I am, after all, your silent partner."

"The operative word here being _silent_!" Erik pointed out. "I do not know if I want you anywhere near my business."

" _Our_ business," Amir corrected. "And just because I let you take full control up till now, does not mean I'm incapable of doing so. I _did_ go to college you know…graduating at the top of my class from Cambridge University."

"Did you now?" Erik asked. It suddenly occurred to him that he knew very little about his friend's life prior to their meeting in Iran. Funny that he had never thought to ask. Still, theirs was a unique friendship, one founded on knowing when to ask questions and when to just let things lie. It has worked for them thus far…so why fix what wasn't broken?

"Yes…and would you like to know what I majored in?" he continued, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms in a smug manner. "Business."

"Then why the hell have you been making me do all the work for the past ten years?" Erik demanded. "While you just sat around doing as little as possible?"

"Because _you_ are a big grump and unbearable to work with most of the time, that's why!" he informed him. "But with you out for a bit, I think it's time I tried my hand at being in charge. I even got a new name plaque for your office door…and I really like your chair."

"Do _not_ adjust the controls on my office chair!" Erik growled. "I have it set perfectly for my height and back support!"

"Yah…well, too late for that," he said with an evil grin. "And don't worry, if I get stuck on anything, I'll give you a call. I won't run the business into the ground while you're out."

"I should hope not!" Erik seethed. "Since if you do, there goes _your_ free ride!"

.

.

Phil had stopped in several times, to check in on Erik, but also to fill him in on what was going on with the operation. De'Rossi, Morte, and the Client, were of course deceased…thanks to Erik. And after the FBI had arrived on the scene, and the firefight was over, only three of the other mobsters remained alive. Two of the lower crime lords and the thug that Raoul had hit on the head with the board. Phil had assured Erik that there would not be any repercussions or backlash on him, and that everyone who knew he had been there that night would be buried so deep in out of the way prisons, no one would ever know he had been involved. This gave Erik a sense of relief, for the last thing he wanted was someone coming after him for revenge.

"Are you kidding?" Phil chuckled. "Though we took down all the major bosses, we both know that new ones are bound to spring up in time. And if anything, they would be grateful to you for taking out their competition for them. I don't think you have anything to worry about, however, I doubt you will ever be allowed inside organized crime again, as an informant or otherwise."

"Fine by me," Erik assured him. "I have done my good deed, and now I intend to reap my rewards…mainly a peaceful life with the woman I love."

"And you're about to become a father as well," Phil smiled. "It changes a man, you know. There's nothing like it, believe me."

"I do, for I have already felt the effects, and my child has not even arrived," Erik agreed.

"Oh, by the way, Rachel wanted me to say thanks for pulling me out of my car before it blew up," he told him. "I was at last able to tell her about your involvement that night, and she is very grateful. If it hadn't been for your quick thinking and brave actions, our little Emma would have grown up never knowing her father."

"Well…just be more careful next time," Erik grumbled, both unused to, and uncomfortable, with praise and gratitude. "I will not always be there to pull your fat out of the fire…so to speak."

"Duly noted," Phil laughed.

.

.

After seven days of remaining in the hospital, recuperating and being forced to endure several grueling therapy sessions, Erik was more than ready to be emancipated. While Christine staying with him had at least made things tolerable, he couldn't wait to sleep in their own bed and feast upon Mrs. Murphy's cooking once more. A few times, after the night nurse had made her final rounds, Erik had coaxed Christine into bed with him. The two forced to snuggle closely, but each had desperately missed the feel of the other while they slept. Thankfully, the one time they were caught, the nurse only raised a disapproving eyebrow, but said nothing.

Yet on this day, Erik was dressed in his normal clothes and being pushed in a wheelchair to the front of the building, where Gerald waited with the limo. He had insisted that he could walk out on his own power, but due to hospital policy, Erik was forced to endure this one last indignity.

"Just a few more minutes, my love," Christine whispered in his ear as they waited in the elevator, watching the lights blink on and off as they passed each floor. "Then we'll be on our way home."

"Not soon enough for me," he seethed, his shoe tapping impatiently on the metal footrest.

The doors at last parted and they were on their way again, heading for the sliding glass doors, where they could see Gerald waiting outside.

In no time at all, Erik and Christine were comfortably seated in the back as Gerald drove them towards home. The doctors had said he was doing very well for a man who had surgery only a week ago, but once more cautioned him to take it easy, and not overdo himself. Christine informed Erik that if he could be overprotective and bossy about _her_ health, then she could do the same to him, promising to watch him like a hawk to make sure he was following orders.

Erik had mixed feelings about this…while on one hand, he loved the idea of his wife being close and caring about him. On the other, he was not sure he could stand being treated like an invalid. Still…if it made his wife happy, he was sure he could put up with just about anything.

.

.

However, two days into his convalescing, Erik was about ready to tear his hair out. He had watched every movie in the house, scanned through a million channels - finding nothing worth watching - and was certain that Amir was purposefully ignoring his calls.

"Let the man do his job," Christine had chided him, as she brought him a bowl of soup and sat it on the coffee table in front of him. He had taken up residence in the entertainment room, refusing to stay in bed one moment longer. "He can't get anything done with you calling him every few minutes." And to emphasize her point, she grabbed his phone and set it on his desk, which was currently out of his reach.

"I want to compose," he said, sounding like a petulant child.

"Maybe tomorrow," she informed him. "You are still very sore and knowing you like I do, I have no doubt you would sit there for hours hunched over your music and piano and strain your back…which is still healing. So, sit there like a good little boy and eat your soup." Christine then grinned at him and folded her arms over her chest with pride. "Hey, you know what…I think I have this motherhood stuff down pat!"

Erik didn't know whether to laugh or scowl at her little comment, but in the end, the laughter won out. Oh, how he loved his wife to distraction.

* * *

 **Ok, we are back on the road to fluffy and racing towards THE END...BUT, there is still one final mystery that has not been solved. Does anyone recall what that might be? (no, it has nothing to do with Charles.) It's coming up next though, so let's see who of you are the true sleuths.**

 **Erik is going to be fine...if he doesn't go stir crazy first. ha ha. And Christine is practicing her mothering skills on him too.**

 **Erik has now told Christine all HIS secrets, or at least all that he knows about, ha ha. Our boy's come clean at last.**

 **And look! Amir is stepping up and taking control of the business while Erik recuperates. I really hope he does not burn the place down. ha ha.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Katie B:** Oh man, a combo of Raoul and Carlotta? I believe that would not only send Erik into some kind of fit, but Christine as well. ha ha. And come on, the poor man was just shot, THIS would kill him for sure. ha ha. Thanks.

 **GuestRP:** Of course...everyone falls for Erik...at least Amir got Antoinette this time. ha ha. You don't like the name Daisy for a car? But Amir really got a kick out of saying "I'm going to drive Miss Daisy." ha ha. Yes, a dented car verses a demolished car is a no-brainer. Meg does love her Raoul. Amir is playing the father figure to Meg, and I think she appreciates it very much. That's true, so I hope that sandwich she had just before Raoul showed up held her over until she could get some food from the hospital cafeteria. Babies get hungry fast! Erik will never feel he 'deserves' Christine, but he will take her any way he can get her. True...Erik is The Phantom, caped crusader in a fancy car with a punjab lasso willing to take on evil and stop crime. And he come with a built in mask!

 **GuestWraithSnake:** Ummmm, I don't think Christine had any secrets...other than Raoul, but really, that's pretty ordinary. Erik's been collecting his secrets for quite some time. Thanks for stopping before I got a swelled head. ha ha. No...from here on out it is all downhill...easy sailing...only happy times ahead...or is it? And yes, some of the things you mentioned will be happening, but how and when is still a mystery. *evil grin* Thanks.

 **Bleaky:** Nope, no Erik...but he was in THIS chapter quite a lot! Glad you liked the Gerald story, it was a funny one. Thanks.

 **Kristin:** Yep, Erik is a murderer after all...he killed Daisy! But like he said, it was a mercy killing. ha ha. They do make a good team of three, can you imagine them going out on the town together? Look out ladies. Erik did love Christine from the moment he saw her...even before she sang. I hope the next five chapters answers all your questions. Thanks.

 **Cayla:** Yep, Gerald is like Erik's muscle...and his driver...he could have decked each and every one of those pushy reporters if he wanted. ha ha. Amir is always hilarious...it's his job. ha ha. I think Erik was worthy of her before, but the fact that he didn't think he was and wanted to prove it by taking now the MOB was a bit over the top. He could have just bought her flowers or rescued a puppy from the pound or something. ha ha. Thanks.


	66. Chapter 66

.

 **Saturday Chapter**

 **.**

 **Chapter 66**

 **~X~**

* * *

In hopes of keeping Erik occupied, Christine brought him paper and pencils the following day, and together they drew up designs for converting her private bathroom into the new nursery. She was now showing her pregnancy even more, and every time Erik saw the little bump on her stomach, he would glow with pride.

Christine was grateful for the internet and the ability to shop online, for she was certain that Erik would not have been up to going from store to store, especially with how fussy he seemed about every item they looked at. It was either not fancy enough, not safe enough, too girly, or not girly enough…depending on what the baby might end up being. But regardless of the challenges, they at last managed to settle on most of the furniture for the baby's room, just about the time that the construction crew began working on the nursery.

To avoid the mess, and remain out of the way of the workers, Erik had insisted that they relocate to the one downstairs guest room, deciding that the farther away they were from the construction, the safer it would be. Christine laughingly reminded him that the baby wasn't even born yet, and that it was impossible for it to accidentally swallow a nail or get its hands on a power saw. However, when Erik had explained that some of the glues and paint fumes could be harmful to pregnant mothers…Christine avoided the upstairs at all costs.

However, it quickly became apparent that shopping for baby items was not the only way Erik chose to spend his time on line, as multiple packages began to arrive at the house on a daily basis…each one full of maternity clothes for Christine. Granted they were all amazing, and she loved every one of them, but when they just kept coming, she told Erik it had to stop! Explaining that she couldn't possibly wear that many outfits before the baby was born. When he reasoned that she could keep them for the next time she became pregnant, Christine threatened to take away all of Erik's credit cards!

The two of them spent quite a bit of time in the music room, with Erik either giving Christine singing lessons or him working on his own music, both giving him hours of enjoyment. His wife was very diligent about keeping track of the time, however, and more than once was forced to drag him out of the room after his allotted time was up. She would state very firmly that he was only allowed to sit in one position for so long, and then he would need to busy himself with other activities or lie down and rest. Erik was not happy about it, but when his back would be unusually sore the next day, he saw her point.

Even confined to the house, Erik still somehow managed to surprise his wife with a weekly delivery of a different fruit, each one a representation of the current size of their child. Jr. had gone from the size of a Key lime, to a plumb, to a lemon, and was now as big as a peach! Of course, this prompted Christine to suddenly crave peach cobbler…which Mrs. Murphy was only too happy to whip up on demand.

Antoinette and Amir stopped by regularly, filling Erik in on what was going on at work, and assuring him that business was continuing as usual. Christine thought this news would make him happy, but instead it only seemed to frustrate him. When she pressed him for the reason, Erik at last admitted it was because he now felt useless.

"Useless?" she scoffed. "Erik, you know they couldn't be doing half this well if it were not for all the things you had already set in motion or put into place. They are just following _your_ example. Now stop being foolish and come give me a hug. You are far from useless, especially to me and Jr. I don't know what I would do around here without you."

"In less than two weeks, you will be going back to school," he reminded her, this news bringing a smile to her face. "And with me being home so much, and us having more time for voice lessons, I would say you are already ahead of the class. You are sure to earn an A from all your professors."

"But you, my Maestro, are the only one I care about impressing," she giggled, reaching up to kiss him on the lips, causing him to let out a low moan of discomfort.

"When will I be cleared for sex?" he demanded, looking as if he were literally in pain. "It has been two weeks since I came home. It is torture having you so close and not being able to do anything about it!"

"You have a checkup in two days…we can ask the doctor then," she insisted. "I'm not crazy about the restrictions either, but the last thing we need is a setback, or you to reopen your wounds. So, just hang tight."

"That is a rather insensitive analogy for how I am feeling at the moment, Christine," Erik growled, both loving and hating the way she could turn a phrase.

.

.

The following day, Erik got another visitor, one he had been hoping to avoid as long as possible. Raoul.

"Now, I'm going to leave you two alone…promise me that there will be no bloodshed?" Christine insisted, holding up a finger and shaking it at both men before she exited the sun room.

Once she was gone, an uncomfortable silence fell over both men, the two of them staring at one another, unsure how to begin. At last, Raoul gave a sigh and strode to the chair opposite Erik, sitting down on the very edge uncomfortably.

"I…I came to apologize," Raoul said at last. "I've wanted to do it for a while now, but I was hoping that a bit of time might help you forget what an ass I was to you."

"Sorry to disappoint you on that," Erik responded tersely.

"Come on, man," Raoul nearly begged. "I'm already eating crow, don't make me choke on it as well."

"Would you prefer a knuckle sandwich instead?" Erik offered.

"Would it make you forgive me any faster?" Raoul asked with an irritated grumble, though flinched just a bit when Erik made an ever so slight move in his direction. "Still, all I can do is say I'm sorry, and assure you that no matter how much I pestered you and Christine, it was never so that I could get back with her. She's my _friend_ …nothing more. I'm in love with Meg, thoroughly and completely. In fact…I haven't told anyone this yet…but I'm planning to ask her to marry me. I know she wants to finish school first, but I'm all right with that. Meg is worth the wait."

"She is indeed a fine woman, and you would be hard pressed to find better," Erik nodded, able to agree with him on that point at least. "Just make sure that your feelings are true, and that you do not grow tired of waiting and hurt her like you did Christine."

"I have told her multiple times how sorry I am for what I did back then," Raoul insisted looking very miserable over the subject. "And even though no amount of apologies will ever make up for it, I want you to know I regret it very deeply."

"Christine is a kind person, and it is my understanding that she had already forgiven you for your past sins…just as she has so kindly chosen to overlook my own," he told the despondent boy. "And even though you did save me from being shot a second time by the thug you struck over the head, not to mention remained and drew their fire while I snuck around and got to De'Rossi and the Client… _I_ am not prepared to be as free with my forgiveness as Christine. It will take a long time to forget your former transgression, not to mention your brainless actions that put my wife in danger back at the warehouse." When Raoul opened his mouth to defend himself, Erik held up his hand to stop him. "Yes, I am fully aware of how willful and determined Christine can be, and you more than likely had no other choice…yet, you still had to know exactly how dangerous it was. I take the safety of my wife and child very seriously, and in the future, I trust that you will be wise enough to do so as well."

"So…are you saying that you'll allow me to associate with Christine in the future?" Raoul questioned, trying to ascertain exactly what Erik had just said.

"I am saying that Meg and Christine are friends, thus it is likely that the four of us will be seeing each other from time to time," Erik allowed. "But this does not mean you and I will be taking in a ball game or going out for drinks. I am Christine's husband, and you are, for the moment, Meg's boyfriend. Nothing more."

"I'll take it!" Raoul said with a grateful smile. "And for the record, I want to thank you very much for saving not only _my_ life, but my brother's as well. I foolishly blamed you for the car bomb, but now that I know the truth. I'm forever in your debt."

"Ahhhh," Erik grinned, leaning back in his chair as a sinister grin touched his lips. "Exactly where I want you."

Raoul visibly paled.

.

.

At last the day of Erik's visit to the doctor arrived, with Gerald driving them to his three-week checkup. After performing a number of tests, checking his bloodwork, and inspecting the wounds carefully, the doctor informed Erik that he was healing very well, and should begin a regiment of light exercise. Returning to work would have to wait a few more weeks, unfortunately. Of course, the question of sexual relations was at the top of Erik's list of things to ask about, causing Christine to blush slightly when it was brought up. The doctor only smiled knowingly and gave him permission to engage in intimate activities, as long as they were cautious and mindful of his potential limitations when it came to stamina and flexibility. Christine's face flushed even a deeper red at hearing that.

Yet when they joyfully resumed their nighttime fun, making sure to keep it slow and gentle, Christine was not complaining in the least.

It was wonderful to have her husband back…in _all_ ways.

.

.

In no time at all, Christine returned to school, and as usual, Gerald was waiting outside ready to ferry her to Juilliard. Erik hated to see her go, knowing that he would be downright lonely at home all day without her, but he wanted his wife to enjoy her time at school, and sent her off with a kiss and a smile, telling Christine to have a wonderful day.

Thankfully, he had things to keep him busy, and between checking on the construction workers upstairs, and talking with Amir on the phone, he worked on his opera. It was coming along wonderfully, and he was hoping that soon he would be able to have Christine sing a few of the pieces from it, allowing him to hear it as it was meant to be performed. Oh, it sounded wonderful in his head, but he couldn't wait to hear it out loud.

Christine had a marvelous day, getting reacquainted with her professors, and seeing all her returning friends. Everyone was excited over the news of her pregnancy, though it would mean taking some time off after the baby was born. But her favorite part of the day was having lunch with Meg on one of the benches outside…with Gerald sitting not too far away, keeping an eye out for danger. Now that Erik was not so worried about any mob connections going after her, he had allowed Amir to continue working at Phantom Industries, and assigned Gerald to Christine's protection.

The two girls chatted about their classes and some of the new professors that would be teaching this year. They were tickled to be back at school and able to see each other every day once more, even if it was only as they passed in the hall and gave each other a wave.

"So, how's your mother doing?" Christine asked curiously. "I only ever see her now when she comes by with Amir, and I can't exactly ask about her romance right in front of him."

"No, I suppose not," Meg chuckled. "But from what I see, things are going great. Do you know they're making plans to go away together for the weekend as soon as your husband is back at work?"

"They are?" That was news to Christine. "So, things are getting serious huh?"

"Looks like," Meg grinned. "And I couldn't be happier for the two of them!"

"Well, it would seem that you aren't the only one who might be getting a new step-parent," Christine giggled. "As my father's voice has been returning, not to mention more movement in his hands and legs, I think he might be considering asking out his nurse, Susan!"

"NO WAY!" Meg squealed. "Awwww, old love, ain't it grand?"

"Yes, but how about we not call it _that_ in front of them, alright?" she laughed.

"Yah, they might take offense," she nodded. "But still, it would seem that love is most definitely in the air!"

.

.

Little did Meg know the extent of it all, for only a few days later, Erik and Christine received an invitation to Raffie and Maria's wedding, to be held in November.

"Well, that was quick," Christine laughed, reading over the embossed announcement. "I thought they planned on waiting a bit, until they were more financially set."

"From what I have heard, Raffie's place has been inundated with business ever since the banquet," Erik informed her, having had little else to do over the past several weeks than surf the net and keep up on such news. "I am willing to bet his financial status has become rather lucrative as of late. In fact, he is scheduled to open a new restaurant on the east side in only a few weeks."

"He is?" Christine was overjoyed for him of course, though she felt a bit embarrassed that she had not thought to keep up on things like this.

"You have been rather busy of late," Erik said, apparently reading her mind and reaching out to pat her hand consolingly. "With everything on your plate, I am surprised you function as well as you do. You are attending school, shouldering the burden of taking care of me, and dealing with pregnancy."

"You are not a burden!" she insisted firmly. "I love you, and I know you would do the same, _and more,_ for me if I needed it."

"That I will, and as soon as I am fully healed, I will be waiting on you hand and foot, as our little one continues to grow." Here he reached out and placed his palms over Christine's stomach, loving how they fit over the swell so perfectly, as if he were cradling his child already. "Have you been experiencing any new cravings?"

"Still just peaches," she shrugged, not having noticed anything new on her food wish list. Mrs. Murphy was usually on top of things, somehow knowing exactly what she was hungry for. Ever since Erik had given her that fresh peach at her fourteenth week of pregnancy, her cravings had centered solely around that fruit the most.

"Well, you be sure to let me or Mrs. Murphy know if anything else tickles your fancy," he instructed. "You know…" he murmured, letting his hands drift over her stomach thoughtfully. "I think you might have grown a bit since yesterday. Should you pose for another picture? The doctor said to be diligent about documenting any growth."

"Erik…she said to take photos each week…not every day!" Christine laughed, loving how involved her husband was in the development of their child.

"But he or she is growing every day!" he pointed out. "And I do not wish to let a milestone go by unnoticed."

"Fine, get the camera and I'll go put on my picture shirt," she grinned, leaving his side and heading for their temporary downstairs bedroom. Christine had chosen a loose-fitting shirt to wear when taking the pregnancy photos, allowing them to easily see just how big she was growing. It also added a bit of consistency to her ever-changing body shape. Once it was on, she headed for the white wall in the entryway that they used for a backdrop. "I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille," she joked, taking on the dramatic air of a Hollywood starlet.

.

.

Charles continued to get better and better, his therapy sessions for his speech and mobility going very well. He was now able to say complete sentences without stammering…much, but the effort to do so wore him out easily. And while he was still unable to walk, he was building his muscles in the therapy pool, as well as attempting to use one of the stationary recumbent exercise bikes. But the day he had actually picked up his violin for the first time, and pulled the bow across the strings, had brought tears to both his eyes, as well as Christine's.

"Oh, Papa!" she had cried, covering her mouth with her hands as he continued. The music was not in tune, nor were the notes constant, but still, it was a blessing to her ears.

"I need practice," he told her with an embarrassed grin.

"You'll get there," she assured him. "In no time at all, you will be playing Mozart and Chopin like a pro."

"I…hope so," he nodded. "I will have to practice a lot…to become as good as your husband…again."

"I can't wait to hear you two play together!" Christine gushed, imagining what a glorious sound that would be. "My two favorite men serenading me. What could be better?"

"Perhaps one day…your _three_ favorite men…playing for you?" he suggested, pointing towards her growing stomach.

"You never know," she laughed, looking down at the bulge that hid her child from view. "But boy or girl…Jr. here is bound to be musical."

"I love you, my daughter," Charles told her, reaching out and placing a hand on her arm. "You…you were so brave. I know it was not easy, but you rose above everything, and you came out stronger. I am sorry my health caused you…so much sorrow."

"I was only sad because I thought I'd lost you, Papa," she assured him. "I would have done anything to get you back."

"Are you…truly happy?" he pressed, looking at her in all seriousness. "You say you are…but I want to know for sure. I worry about you."

"I am more than happy, Papa," she told him with a huge smile. "I know that Erik and I started things rather oddly, and I was a bit worried about everything at first. But I can't imagine being without him now."

"He loves you as well," Charles freely admitted. "He told me this from the start…though, in the beginning I was less than accepting of that fact. At first…when Erik came to visit, I spent most of the time imaging how satisfying it would feel to wrap my hands around his neck…and just squeeze." When Christine's eyes grew wide at this, he did his best to allay her fears. "But…as time went on, I actually began to listen to his words. He spoke of you…as if you were the only woman on earth, and in a way, to him you are. You have proven to him that he is capable of love…and being loved in return. And as I watched you, Christine, you also began to blossom under the warmth of that love. However, it wasn't until Erik told me exactly what he was up to that I began to trust him with my most precious gem…to trust him to take care of you."

"Erik told you about him working for the FBI?" Christine was shocked by this. "When?"

"Around the time you and Meg were attempting to set Amir and Antoinette up on a blind date," he laughed. "I asked him if you were in any danger…and he said _possibly_. That was when I believe he felt I needed to know. And with me unable to speak to anyone…he figured I was the only one he _could_ tell. He also proved to me that his love for you was not simply superficial, that he valued you above everything else in his life."

"He did…how?" Christine was rightly puzzled.

"Erik took off his mask," Charles explained, watching as total understanding, and shock, filled his daughter's eyes.

"Oh…my," she gasped.

"It was then that I understood he would do anything for you," Charles assured her. "And _that_ was why I told you to trust him…to go home…because I knew a love as strong as yours would see you through."

"And it has, Papa," she grinned. "I love Erik like I remember you and mama loving each other. Yours was the kind of marriage I always wished I could have…and now I do! Erik loves me just as much as I love him, and when this little one is born, I will be the happiest woman in the world. I promise."

"You are so like my Virginia," he smiled. "She was…an amazing wife and mother…just as I know you will be. I miss her every day." He then looked away, an expression of worry on his face. "Yet…she has been gone a long time. And while I will always love her, I am beginning to think I might have…room in my heart to love again. Would this upset you, Christine?"

"Why do you think I'd be upset that you're in love with Susan?" she asked, snickering a bit when his eyes turned back to her in shock. "Oh, come on, Papa, I'm pregnant, not blind."

"You…you know?" he stammered, this time from surprise.

"It's written all over your face every time she walks in the room!" Christine laughed. "And if I might be so bold, I think she fancies you as well. Have you told her how you feel yet?"

"No, I do not wish to say anything until I can walk again," he lamented. "I want to be strong enough to get down on one knee before I ask her to accept me…if she will, that is."

"Oh, I think you stand a pretty fair chance of her saying yes," Christine grinned. "And you have my blessing as well, Papa. I know you loved mother, and neither one of us will ever forget her. But you deserve to be happy, and if Susan is the one to make you feel that way, then I say go for it."

"You are a wonderful daughter," Charles informed her, looking as if he was now holding back tears. "No father could ask for more."

"And as far as I'm concerned, there is no better father in the world than you."

.

.

When Christine got home from Leathwood that day, still riding high on her visit with her father, she was in for yet another surprise.

"It is finished," Erik announced, barely letting Christine get inside the door before he spoke.

"What's finished?" she questioned, setting her things down and reaching up to give him a kiss. "Dinner?"

"No. The nursery!" he told her. "The workers completed the last details today, cleaned up, and left. It just needs furniture, and of course, the baby."

"Well, I've got news for you," she laughed, patting her stomach. "The room maybe ready, but the baby is not."

"But when it is, it shall have a room fit for a prince or princess." He then took her by the hand. "Come take a look."

Christine was very excited about this, since she had been avoiding the construction area for the past several weeks, relying on Erik to make sure that things were on schedule and being done to their specifications. She had no doubt that Erik was on top of things, leaving her worry free over the project. And she had been right, for the moment she stepped inside the newly converted room, she let out a gasp of delight.

The spacious area had been painted a lovely butter-yellow, with white trim, and plush cream carpet. None of the furniture had been set up yet, but the built-in changing table and sink was all set to go. The whole place felt so warm and comforting, and Christine could just imagine the joyful hours they would spend in here, fawning over their baby.

"It's beautiful!" she gushed, spinning around as she took in every sight. "It couldn't be more perfect!"

"And look here," Erik invited, taking her to a set of folding doors where her own night clothes had once been. Opening them up, Christine grinned at the multi-level closet, with over a dozen small drawers beside it. And there, hanging on the middle bar was the one lone article of clothing they had purchased for their baby so far. It was the little onesie that Erik had found, that said, _"I'm the music of Mommy and Daddy's heart."_

"You do know our baby will need more than just the one outfit, right?" Christine laughed, reaching out to caress the little article of clothing. "And diapers…it will need a _lot_ of diapers."

"Naturally. Though I did not wish to miss out on any shopping spree that might be needed," he explained. "The doctors say I am able to do whatever I feel comfortable with, and I think that entails a trip to every baby store in town."

"Every one of them?" Christine gasped. "You might feel up for that, but I don't think I am! Our child may only be the size of a pomegranate, but sometimes it feels more like a bowling ball. How about we start off slow…and only hit one or two stores? After all, we still need to have the furniture we bought lugged upstairs and put together. One step at a time, alright?"

"As you wish, my love," Erik smiled, leaning in to kiss her on the temple before pulling her into his arms. "But rest assured, our child will want for nothing, and certainly not love."

"I agree," she grinned.

.

.

Gerald had been elected to lug the crib, dresser, bassinette, and other necessary paraphernalia that had been purchased upstairs, depositing it in the newly appointed nursery. Yet, Erik had forbidden him to put any of it together, saying this was a father's privilege, and one he was not about to miss out on. Thus, on his second to last weekend before he had decided to return to work, Erik sat on the carpet in the middle of the room, reading instructions and assembling every item with expert care. Christine had chuckled when she peeked in, noticing that each and every bolt, screw, and washer had been laid out in an exact pattern, ready to be used when the instructions called for it. Erik definitely had a touch of OCD, she thought.

By Sunday evening, every piece was in place, and the soon-to-be-parents stood back with a look of pure satisfaction. It only reinforced the idea that very soon their bundle of joy would arrive, and take up residence in the adorable room.

Their moment of reflection was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell, causing Erik and Christine to look at each other in puzzlement. Amir never rang the bell, and no one could enter the front gate without them, or the Persian, granting admission. Thus, they headed down, curious to find out who it might be.

When Erik opened the door, he was somewhat surprised to find Phil, as well as Amir, standing there with expressions he was unable to identify. Was something the matter?

"This is a surprise," he announced, stepping back as he allowed the two men to enter. "What brings you here so late, Phil? And why did you bother ringing the bell, Amir? Did you lose your key?"

"Well, I never quite know what you two are up to these days," he told his friend, giving him a wink to emphasize his point. "And this is not a social call…or at least, not the normal kind."

"Oh?" Now Erik was thoroughly confused. "You know I hate it when you are vague. So come in and tell us what the big mystery is."

The two men nodded in agreement and were ushered to the sun room, where everyone took a seat. Erik and Christine shared the sofa while Amir and Phil chose plush chairs facing them, still looking somewhat on edge.

"So, are you going to keep us in suspense, or speak?" Erik asked. "From the looks on your faces, I am guessing it is something upsetting."

"No, not exactly," Amir was quick to assure them, noting that Christine was becoming rather agitated. "In fact…it's more like good news."

"You and Antoinette are getting married?" Christine blurted out, guessing the only thing she could think of.

"Um…no," Amir laughed, though he certainly didn't seem opposed to the idea. "This has to do with you, Erik. You see, a while back, Christine had said she was sad that your child would never know its grandparents on your side of the family. And she asked me if there was any way we might discover their identity."

"Yet we both looked into that on multiple occasions," Erik stated. "We came up with nothing, not even a single clue as to who they might have been."

"That is true, however, since the last time we looked, we have made some friends in high places," here Amir jerked his thumb at Phil, who had been sitting there quietly. "And so, upon Christine's request, I asked if the FBI could help us out."

Erik was stunned, not quite sure how he felt about this bit of news. Amir had gone behind his back and solicited Phil for help about his past? What had the Persian been thinking? And then there was the part about how it had been Christine who had initiated the endeavor, causing Erik to suddenly feel rather left in the dark.

"And did no one think to ask _me_ how I might feel about all this?" he questioned, his tone revealing his irritation.

"I had no idea if anything _would_ come of it, and I didn't want to get your hopes up," Amir said in his defense. "And Christine had only been doing some wishful thinking…it was just out loud, and around me. So, Phil and I kind of ran with it."

"And exactly how far did you two run?" Erik demanded, looking from Amir to Phil and back again with a stern glower.

"Pretty far," the blond FBI Director answered, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out an envelope. "Turns out, there is an elderly couple in Kentucky, by the name of Hank and Cathy Simmons, who've been looking for their daughter for nearly forty years. Her name was Kimberly Grace, and she had apparently fallen in love and ran off with some guy when she was only sixteen. Her parents didn't hear from her for nearly two years, but then she sent them a letter…from all places, Paris, France."

"France?" Christine gasped, looking up at Erik expectantly. Yet he barely blinked at the news, his eyes cold and unyielding.

"Yes. Somehow, she'd ended up in Europe, on her own and pregnant, and wanted to come home," Chaney related. "Mr. and Mrs. Simmons were overjoyed and would have welcomed her and the baby back with open arms, but sadly, that turned out to be the only letter they ever received. After hearing nothing more for over two months, they did everything they could to discover her whereabouts in a country halfway across the world from them. Unfortunately, detectives and investigations cost money, and they had very little funds, being crop farmers by trade. And after expending all their savings, they still had nothing to go on, and no clue as to what became of her. They never gave up hope though, and did all they could over the next thirty-five years, writing letters and contacting anyone who might be of help. About ten years back they saved enough money to buy one plane ticket to France, allowing Hank to fly there himself, staying as long as he could in hopes of digging up any leads on their daughter or grandchild, but to no avail."

"Yet this is where Phil comes in," Amir interjected, noticing that Christine's eyes were beginning to tear up just a bit, apparently deeply moved by the plight of the elderly couple.

"Yes, for it would seem that a few years back, they convinced someone in the Bureau to reactivate the missing person's file on their daughter," Phil continued. "And since most information is now stored on computers, and able to be sorted through faster and exchanged from one agency to another, they discovered something at last. Turns out, in nineteen seventy-nine, a pregnant woman matching Kimberly's description stumbled into the emergency room at the Beaujon Hospital in Paris, already in labor. Unfortunately, she lost consciousness in the waiting area before anyone could get her name. And since she had no identification, no wallet, and no driver's license, she was admitted as a Jane Doe. There she delivered a baby boy, before dying of complications during birth. And without knowing who she was, or if there was a father in the picture, the child was turned over to the Thorn Rose Orphanage."

"And…and you think this Kimberly Simmons was Erik's mother?" Christine gasped.

"Everything is too perfect to be a mere coincidence…however, _this_ was what truly convinced me of the fact," Phil finished, passing Erik the envelope, who took it with a great deal of trepidation. "It's a copy of the letter that Miss Simmons sent to her parents, explaining her situation. I think you'll admit that it's pretty conclusive evidence."

Erik stared at the envelope in his hands, his emotions in turmoil as he tried to decide if he should open it or not. While he desperately wanted to know the truth about his past, he was not sure he was ready to read a letter from his potential mother. What if she said she regretted his existence…what if she cursed him and his conception? He had lived nearly forty years believing that his mother held no love or regard for him, yet to have that confirmed would be a blow indeed.

"Erik…are you alright?" Christine asked quietly, placing her hand on his arm in comfort. "This is good news…right?" When she got no response, she truly became worried. "Erik?"

Suddenly he rose to his feet, his fingers fisting around the envelope in his hand as he stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him. Christine immediately jumped up to follow, but Amir reached out and stopped her.

"No…give him a bit before you search him out," he instructed. "I've seen him like this before. He's not angry…just confused and unsure how to process things. If you try and press him on the issue now, he will only explode or retreat further inside himself."

"But if he's hurting, should I go to him? Comfort him?" Christine pressed.

"Yes…but give him a little time first," he assured her. "Trust me on this one, Christine."

"I do trust you," she nodded, sitting back down with a deep sigh. _But I love Erik more,_ she added silently, her heart breaking over the pain her husband was now going through.

* * *

 **Well now you know the final mystery to solve...**

* * *

 **Sorry for no guest reviews today...I am in a huge hurry to get out the door thismorning and will respond to all guest reviews in Sunday's chapter...Promise!**


	67. Chapter 67

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 **Sunday's Chapter.**

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 **I got up yesterday morning, thinking I had plenty of time to post the chapter and add in comments, but my computer wanted to do some kind of update...AGAIN...and I had to sit and watch it loading for like forever before I could log on again! So I was literally hitting send and then running out the door Saturday. ha ha. Sorry about that. So all responses from yesterday are at the end of today's chapter.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 67**

 **~X~**

* * *

The next fifteen minutes passed with painful slowness, until Christine could stand it no longer and jumped up, determined to find Erik no matter what Amir had said. The Persian let her go, not attempting to stop her a second time, looking over at Phil with a smile of resignation.

"He'll be calmed down by now," he assured the man.

"I don't blame him for being upset," Phil nodded. "This is big news…and I have no idea how I would be handling it all."

"Thankfully, Christine can ease him through just about anything, even when he doesn't want to talk. They'll be fine." He then looked at his watch thoughtfully. "I don't expect them to be back down for a while, would you like some coffee?"

"Coffee sounds great," he agreed, as the two men rose and headed for the kitchen, looking to kill some time.

.

.

Christine knocked quietly at their upstairs bedroom door, having already checked their temporary downstairs one first. When no answer came, she peeked inside, noting that the door to the nursery was standing open. Entering cautiously, she stood in the doorway of the newly renovated room, staring at Erik as he sat on the floor, his back against the far wall and his eyes closed. In his hand, he held several pieces of paper, telling her that he had at least chosen to read the letter that Phil had given him.

"Erik?" she spoke at last, not wishing to startle him by entering while he was lost in thought. At her voice, he opened his eyes, staring at her as if he were a lost child, seeking for help in finding his way. "May I come in?"

When he nodded at last, Christine walked across the room and carefully eased herself down beside him, her legs stretched out in front of her on the thick carpet. He didn't speak right away, and she said nothing, just waiting patiently.

"Phil was right…I believe this girl _was_ my mother," he stated at last, gesturing to the papers in his hand.

"Is that a good thing…or a bad thing?" she questioned, unsure how she should respond to the news.

"Neither. It is simply how it is," was his reply. He then handed over the letter, offering it to her to read. "Go ahead. See for yourself."

Christine took the copied pages, instantly noticing that not only was the handwriting neat and legible, it actually resembled Erik's penmanship in a few subtle ways. She paused for a moment more, waiting to see if he might change his mind, before clearing her throat and reading out loud.

 _Dear Mom and Dad,_

 _I know I hurt you terribly when I left, and looking back now I see you were both right about Jimmy. He was no good, just like you said, but I couldn't see it at the time. I haven't seen him in over a year now, having left me for someone else and in a place so very far away from home. I won't bother relating the path that brought me all the way to France, or the company in which I traveled, but here I am, wishing I was back in Kentucky._

 _I am so sorry for everything I put you through, and know that I can never make it up to you, but I am writing in hopes that you might find it in your hearts to forgive me. All you ever did was love and care for me, and only now can I truly appreciate all the sacrifices you made over the years. I know I don't deserve a second chance, but I am begging you to allow me to come home. You were the best parents a girl could have, and I was hoping that maybe you would be willing to show that same love and compassion to your grandchild as well. Yes…I am pregnant, and will be giving birth in just a few more weeks._

 _However, before you decide, please know that I have done some things that I am not proud of. The shameful lifestyle I fell into has only brought me sorrow and misery, but it may have done even worse things to my unborn child. Lost in a haze of drugs and alcohol, I was unaware of my condition until it was impossible to deny, and I now fear what this might mean for my baby. I went to see a doctor, giving him a false name, and he has told me that the chances are very high that because of the drugs I took, my child will be born with some kind of defect. I cried for two days straight after learning this, thinking of all the pain and misery I have brought upon my innocent baby._

 _In that pit of despair, I vowed to change my life, to leave it all behind and do things right for once. I'm clean now, no more drugs or drinking, and I severed ties with everyone I was acquainted with who fed that lifestyle. I've been making money by singing on the street corners for spare change, and am able to afford a small room in a shared house, and enough food to live on. Right now, traveling would be impossible for me, but should you agree to let me come home, I promise to scrimp and save in order to get enough money to do so after the baby is born. I wish I could ask the father for help…but shamefully, I am unsure as to who that might be._

 _I know this is a lot to ask, and the last thing I ever want to do is burden you with the problems I have created for myself, but I just want a better life for my child. I owe him or her that much at least, and I'm willing to do anything to see they get it. I love my unborn baby so very much already, even without having met it yet, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for any damage I might have caused to it…and to you._

 _I will write again after your grandchild is born, please think about this long and hard, I know I don't deserve a second chance, but I am begging this for my child's sake._

 _With all my love, and deepest regrets for the pain my selfish actions has caused everyone,_

 _Kimberly_

Christine stared at the letter, her eyes blurry from her unshed tears. The letter had been heart-wrenching to read, vividly expressing the shame and remorse this young unwed mother had felt.

"Oh, Erik…I am so sorry," she sniffled, reaching out and taking hold of his hand and giving it a squeeze. "You were right…it was the drugs, just like the doctor told you."

"Yes, but at least from what the letter said, I am led to believe it was not done maliciously," he replied in a monotone voice. "Though I supposed the results were still the same."

"She claimed she didn't known at the time that she was pregnant, and from her words, appears genuinely sorry for her actions," Christine pointed out. "I was pregnant for nearly three weeks before I knew, and you have no idea how worried I was that I might have done something in that time that might have harmed the baby without me knowing it."

Erik's eyes were instantly on her, his expression one of genuine concern.

"Like what?" he asked,

"Well, that book we got said that pregnant women should avoid most fish, due to their high content of mercury," she explained. "And I know I had meals with fish on multiple occasions. Not to mention how it says I should avoid hot tubs or saunas, and I'm not sure if your garden tub counts as that, but we also used it on multiple occasions. And what about caffeine? I had coffee with breakfast nearly every morning!"

"I do not think you have any reason to be concerned or feel guilty, Christine," Erik assured her, putting his arm around her and pulling him to his side consolingly. "I believe the danger is in doing those things constantly throughout your pregnancy, and Dr. Brooks has given you and the baby a clean bill of health." He then gave a heavy sigh and reached up to touch his mask, almost as if unconsciously. "Yet, recreational drugs and copious amounts of alcohol apparently _do_ have an effect on a growing fetus…even if it was done unintentionally."

"But she was doing everything she could to make it up to you," Christine reminded him. "Getting herself clean, attempting to go home so you could have a better life. She didn't do it on purpose, and she did say she loved you. That has to count for something."

"Yes…it does," he nodded. "And I find I now pity her more than hate her, though it might take some time before I can think of her without anger welling up in my heart. However, this brings us to the next question…what do I do about my grandparents?"

"Well…I would think you'd like to meet them," Christine replied, looking up at her husband thoughtfully. "It would appear that they did want her to come home, and they searched for years looking for the two of you."

"Ah, but are they ready to accept a grandson with a face like this?" he asked. "My appearance might be more than they can handle."

"Well, if you tell them of your condition and they want nothing to do with you, then you are no worse off than you were before, right?" she pointed out. "Yet…what if they do want to know you? Isn't it worth the chance to find out?"

"You were raised by a kind and loving father, Christine," Erik said in a sad tone. "You see family as a good thing, something to be cherished and desired…while I have never had such experiences. I have spent my entire life alone, scratching and fighting for everything I possess, and never having anyone help me in any way."

"Until Amir," Christine added, knowing that he had been the first to show Erik a measure of kindness.

"Until Amir…and now you," he corrected. "It has taken me a long time, but with your help, I have come to see that there are those in this world who are able to look past my face, and love me regardless."

"Then why don't you take a chance and see if your grandparents are able to do the same?" she pleaded. "I know you're scared, Erik, I am too. But together, we can do anything, even this. I promise."

He was silent for a long while, apparently considering her words and weighing them against his own fears. But at last, her love won out, causing him to give her a tired smile.

"Yes. It would be the wise thing to do," he nodded. "If for no other reason, then to learn more about my history, where I came from, if there is any heart disease or cancer in my background."

"That would be a very practical thing to do, especially for the baby," she agreed, fully aware that he was using medical reasons as a smoke-screen, in an effort not to open himself up to the pain of possible rejection. "And I will be with you through the entire process. I promise."

"I would never have expected anything less, my loving wife," Erik told her with a genuine smile. "I love you.

"And I love you," she whispered, reaching up to kiss his lips, suddenly very excited about this new twist of fate.

.

.

Amir and Phil looked up as Erik and Christine entered the kitchen, both setting down their coffee cups as they waited anxiously to hear their decision.

"I would like to contact my grandparents, if that is possible," Erik stated, bringing a smile to both men's faces.

"Of course," Phil nodded, reaching into this pocket and handing them another piece of paper. "Here is their address and phone number, but I have not yet notified them that we have located you. I wanted to talk to you about it first."

"And for that I thank you," Erik replied, taking the paper in his hand and staring down at it.

"Would you like me to speak to them first, and let them know you will be calling?" Phil offered, noting that Erik didn't seem all that eager to do so. "Give them a heads-up, so to speak, so they are not completely taken off guard?"

"I…I think that would be wise," Erik agreed. "Thank you."

"I will do so first thing in the morning," Phil told him, downing the last of his coffee and standing up. "I will call you around noon and let you know what they had to say. But for now, I'd best get going, Rachel has been home with the children all evening and I'm willing to bet she needs some help getting them to bed." He gave a nod and a smile to Christine. "Always good to see you."

"And you," she agreed. "Give my best to Rachel."

"I will," he nodded, excusing himself and heading for the front door.

This left the three friends alone in the kitchen, no one quite sure what to say. It was Erik who broke the silence.

"Thank you, Amir, for going behind my back and talking to Phil like that," he said, his voice full of emotion, though thankfully it was all good. "I am not certain I would have had the courage to do such a thing myself…too fearful of what I might find."

"I knew it was a long shot, but what's the good of having the FBI owing you one if you never take advantage of it?" he chuckled, also finishing off his coffee and taking his and Phil's cup to the dishwasher. Once they were loaded, he turned and headed for the door himself. "I best be getting home as well, I promised Annie that I would call her before bed, and it's getting rather late. Can't have my lady love thinking I stood her up, can I?"

"No, you cannot…since it is highly unlikely you will ever find a woman of that caliber willing to date you again, should you screw this up," Erik agreed.

"Thanks for your support," he huffed, though obviously not upset at all. He understood this was Erik's way of dealing with the touchy-feely emotions he was currently experiencing. It was a man thing, after all.

"You are welcome," Erik responded. "Now, make yourself scarce. I want to spend some time alone with my wife."

"And that's my cue to leave," Amir laughed, waving over his shoulder as he headed out the door.

Now it was just the two of them, exactly how Erik liked it. Well…until it was officially three, that is. And without a word, he took his wife's hand, leading her to their temporary bedroom just down the hall, eager to feel her loving arms wrapped around him after such an emotional revelation. Christine would make things better…she always did.

.

.

Phil did indeed phone the next day, telling Erik that he spoke with Hank and Cathy Simmons, explaining the situation to them. To say they were overjoyed to hear that their grandson was actually alive, and had at last been located, was an understatement. They had begged him to give them Erik's contact information, but Phil had politely refused, saying that their grandson would get in touch with them when he was ready. They reluctantly agreed, saying they understood that it was a very emotional situation, one best handled delicately, but it was quite plain they were anxious to speak with him.

For the rest of the day, Erik stewed in silence, unsure of what to say or how to react. When Christine came home from Juilliard, he told her the news, and she asked him what he would like to do.

"I know that I need to get in touch with them," he stated firmly. "I simply do not know what to say. I have picked up the phone half a dozen times, and yet…I am unable to go through with it."

"Would it be easier for you if I called instead?" she questioned, willing to do anything if it would put Erik's mind at rest. "I could talk with them for a while, and get a feel for what kind of people they are. Then, if you wish to, you can say hello. All right?"

Erik said nothing, but the look of sheer gratitude in his eyes spoke volumes, leaving her to reach out and take the paper with their number from his hand. Pulling out her phone, she punched in the digits, before squeezing Erik's hand as he sat beside her on the sofa. Halfway through the first ring the line picked up, and an older man's anxious voice could be heard on the other end.

"Hello…Erik?" he asked, apparently having been sitting by the phone all day in hopes he would call.

"No, this is Christine…Erik's wife," she quickly explained, not wanting them to think it was a wrong number or anything. "I'm calling on his behalf…to, well, pave the way, I guess."

"His wife?" the man gasped in shock. Christine then heard him speaking to someone beside him, his voice a bit muffled as if he had covered the receiver with his hand. "He's married, Cathy! Our grandson is married!" Then he returned to his conversation with her, a slight catch in his throat as he did. "It…it is very nice to speak with you, Christine. My name is Hank…Hank Simmons and I want to thank you very much for calling. My wife, Cathy, and I are very anxious to speak with, and hopefully, meet Erik…and of course, you as well. Do you live far away? Would you like to come for a visit? We just got the internet out here, so we could do that e-mail thing, or what they call Skype…if someone will show us how it works."

"Hank, slow down, you'll frighten the girl with all your questions," came the kindly voice of Cathy, apparently listening in beside him. "Let me talk to her."

Christine couldn't help but giggle silently as there was a shuffling noise and Cathy's took over.

"Hello, dear," she began. "Please forgive Hank, we're just a bit excited is all. Kimberly was our only daughter, you see, and we had just about given up hope of ever locating her child…our grandson. So, when we got the call this morning from that nice Mr. Chaney from the FBI, you can imagine we've been sitting on pins and needles waiting to hear from you. And now to find out that we have a granddaughter as well…I…I just can't tell you how happy we are!"

"Yes, I can imagine," Christine assured the woman. "And at the risk of throwing you into a complete tizzy…you might as well know now, that Erik and I are expecting _our_ first child this winter." At this, Christine had to pull the phone away from her ear as Cathy let out a cry of joy.

"We're going to be great-grandparents!" she shouted, and then burst into loud sobs.

"Hello?" It was Hank, back on the line since Cathy was now unable to speak through her tears. "We…we are so happy to hear such news, really we are. And we are now even more excited to meet you. Though with you in the family way, I doubt it would be practical for you to travel here to visit at the moment." He was then silent for a few seconds, as if getting up the nerve to ask. "Might it be possible to speak with your husband? I…I would truly love to say hello to him…if I'm not being too pushy, that is."

"Hold on, let me ask," she told Hank, pushing the mute button on her phone so she and Erik could speak in private. "He would like to talk to you. He sounds very nice, and Cathy was so excited about the baby that she's a sobbing mess. You don't have to if it's too soon…it's your decision, Erik."

He sat there, staring at the phone in her hand, trying to decide what to do. In the end, his sense of pride won out, refusing to be intimidated by all this…no matter how emotionally taxing it was. Holding out his hand, he accepted the device from Christine, standing up as he began to pace the floor, hitting the mute button as he cleared his throat.

"Hello…this is Erik," he said, doing his best to sound formal and calm.

"Erik? This…this is your grandpa, Hank Simmons," the older man said, causing Erik's entire chest to constrict rather painfully. "It's a real pleasure to speak with you at last, son. You don't know how long we've been searching for you."

And with those words, Erik felt his shoulders relax, and a lump form in his throat, as another dream he had never thought possible came true… _he had a family._

Erik, Hank and Cathy talked for nearly an hour, with Christine listening in and adding to the conversation here and there, but mostly leaving things to him. It took a while, but eventually Erik had relaxed, and was answering a few questions he felt comfortable with, as well as asking some of his own. He quickly discovered that his grandparents knew nothing about him or his money, neither from Phil nor by reputation, having no idea of his power and wealth. Erik decided not to mention it right away, and just enjoyed getting to know the elderly couple.

They were both now in their eighties, but thankfully very healthy and spry, having lived on a farm all their lives. They spoke about Kimberly, telling Erik many of the fond memories they had of their little girl before she had disappeared. In the end, Erik promised to call again the following evening, suddenly feeling completely wrung out emotionally by the whole experience. Christine was left in tears as they said their final farewells, with none of them wishing to hang up, yet knowing they must.

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"Well…it would appear I have grandparents," Erik stated in a shaky voice as he put down the phone.

"And really sweet ones too, it would seem," Christine grinned, reaching up as she wiped a single tear from his exposed cheek with her thumb. "I can't wait to meet them in person."

"Ah, but there lies the catch," Erik hummed. "I will need to warn them about _this_ first." Here he removed his mask, no longer showing any hesitation in doing so in front of Christine. "Will they be as happy to know me after they learn what I look like? That I must wear a mask in public simply to be accepted by society?"

"I think they will love you no matter what," she insisted. "I do."

"But you are extraordinary, Christine," he pointed out with a little smile.

"Show a little faith Erik, you might find that I'm not so very special in that respect after all," she told him, reaching up and giving him a warm kiss. "You are a wonderful person, Erik Thorn…give others a chance to show you that they can be trusted as well."

"I do want to believe you, my love," he murmured, leaning down to capture her lips once again. "But we will have to wait and see."

.

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The following day, Christine bid Erik goodbye and headed off to school. This would be his last week staying home, and he had already informed Amir that, come Monday morning, he wanted his office back just the way he had left it. Christine could tell that Erik was getting a bit antsy, even if most of his day was blissfully taken up with composing, for he was not the sort to remain idle for long.

Halfway through her day, on her way from one class to the next, Christine felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, causing her to pause long enough to fish it out and answer it.

"Hello?" she said into the receiver.

"Hello, Christine…this is Cathy. Cathy Simmons," came the unmistakable accent of Erik's grandmother. "Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"No, not at all," she quickly checked the time, seeing that she did indeed have a few minutes to spare. "Yet, I'm afraid Erik isn't here right now. This is my cell phone, but I could give you his if you would like to call him directly."

"Actually, I was hoping to speak with you, dear… _privately_ ," Cathy revealed, sounding somewhat nervous about this. "You see, last night when Hank and I were talking with Erik, we could tell that he was avoiding certain subjects, and we didn't exactly know how to bring it up…but there is something we really need to know."

"Oh…and what's that?" Christine asked.

"Well, dear…we need to know if what Kimberly said was true, as well as the nearly forty year old report the nice FBI man gave us," she said, once more sounding concerned. "In her letter, Kimberly wrote that the doctor told her that the child could have suffered some kind of damage, due to her use of drugs and alcohol. And the hospital had written down that the baby she birthed had been…well…deformed. Is that true? Was Erik born with something wrong with him?"

"Oh…umm…that," Christine stammered, not quite sure how to respond. It was Erik's story to tell, not hers, and yet, she couldn't very well lie to the woman. Quickly looking around, she spotted the door to one of the practice rooms, and finding it empty, she slipped inside, away from prying ears.

"Now, please, don't get the wrong idea, Christine," Cathy went on hurriedly. "Hank and I don't care one lick if he was, we're just so excited to have found him at last. We simply don't want to say, or do, anything that might make him feel uncomfortable with us. We love him no matter what. Honest! He's family, dear, you both are…and that means everything to us."

"I'm happy to hear that, Cathy," Christine said with a sigh of relief. "And while I don't feel comfortable giving away my husband's secrets, let's just say that yes, Erik did suffer a deformity…one that has affected his entire life. He has done much to overcome it, to find a way to work around it, and gain the respect and admiration of his peers…but he will never fully get over it. I have assured him numerous times that it in no way bothers me, that I love him just as he is, but he is still finding it difficult to believe that others could as well. Understand?"

"Yes, I do, Christine," Cathy replied, pain in her voice. "We would have accepted Kimberly and Erik back with open arms, and done all we could to see that he grew up with love and acceptance…but that was simply not to be. However, in the time we have left on this earth, Hank and I intend to prove to Erik that he has our affection…unconditionally."

"That's wonderful, truly it is," Christine agreed, her eyes becoming misty over the older woman's assurance.

"So…how do you suggest we broach the subject with him?" Was her next question. "What do you recommend?"

"Say nothing…let Erik bring it up," she instructed. "We spoke briefly about it last night, and he understands that he needs to tell you all about it before you meet face to face. Perhaps tonight when he calls, he will be ready to talk about it. And if he does, just tell him exactly what you told me…I think that will be perfect."

"Thank you, dear," Cathy said. "I'm so happy that he has someone as kind and gentle as you in his life. I can already tell that you and I will get along perfectly."

"I think you're pretty sweet too," Christine laughed. "I can't wait for us to all get together."

"Us as well," the older woman agreed. "Now, I've kept you long enough, dear, we can speak later tonight. Take care, Christine."

"You too, Cathy," she said, before hanging up with a smile. She was really going to like having a grandmother again!

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After dinner, the two of them sat down in the sun room and called Kentucky once again, this time Erik was the one to do the honors. They spoke for a bit, talking about things in general, but before long, the topic turned to serious matters, and from the look in Erik's eyes, Christine could see that it was time. Gripping his hand, she gave it a squeeze, letting him know she was there for him, and that everything would be all right.

And so, after a deep breath, Erik did indeed tell them everything. And not only about his face, and how he had been mocked and scorned all through childhood, but also about how he run away from the orphanage and lived off the streets for a good part of his younger years. At one point, Christine heard Cathy weeping softly, with Hank quietly offering her soothing words of comfort, but Erik still went on. She could tell that if he stopped now, he would lose his nerve and never broach the subject again, and this was as much a cathartic experience for him, as it was necessary for his grandparents. When at last he had finished, ending up at his less than stellar beginnings here in the states, Erik was winded and drained, waiting anxiously for them to respond. When they did, he was nearly bowled over in shock.

"Erik…we are both so very sorry that you had to go through all that, especially when all that time we were here waiting, eager to take you in," Hank assured him. "Yet, from what we can tell, it would seem that regardless of the hand that life dealt you, that didn't stop you from coming out on top. Your grandmother and I are so very proud of you, Erik. And no matter what you look like, you are our grandson, and that means we love you unconditionally. You have our word on that, and we can't wait to demonstrate it in person."

"You still wish to meet with me?" he asked, quite taken aback by their devotion.

"More than ever, son," Hank told him firmly. "In fact, Cathy and I already called and got prices for bus tickets from here to New York. The journey will only be about fifteen hours, depending on how often they need to stop, they said. We would love to come out and see you…if you'll allow us to."

Erik looked over at Christine, his eyes full of hope, as if asking for her permission. She gave it readily, nodding enthusiastically, as his smile widened.

"Christine and I would like that very much, Hank," he told the man, still not quite ready to refer to him by the familial term of grandfather. "But we won't hear of you two taking such a long and exhausting bus ride to get here."

"Well, we are not about to make that sweet wife of yours travel in her condition!" Cathy broke in. "We might be older than dirt, but we are from hardy stock, and one little bus ride is not going to kill us."

"While I thank you for your concern over Christine and the baby, what I meant was, I am more than happy to fly you out here to see us, which will take hardly any time at all," Erik explained, touched that they would offer to do such a thing.

"Absolutely not, young man!" Hank told him firmly. "We will not have you paying our way. Finding you has been our lifelong dream, and we are not about to let you put yourself in debt just to save us a few hours of drive-time. Besides, I flew in a plane once, and let me tell you, it was cramped, uncomfortable, and not something I would care to do again. The bus will be just fine."

"Hank, Cathy," Erik began again, his voice somewhat placating, as he tried to persuade them. "Again, I thank you for your consideration…but I did not mean I would purchase you tickets on a commercial flight. My intent is to send my private jet to pick you up. I assure you, it is not cramped, far from uncomfortable, and in my opinion, the only way to fly."

"I'm sorry, Erik," Hank said after a moment of silence. "We must have a bad connection here, because it sounded like you said you had a private jet?"

"That is exactly what I said," Erik assured him. "I can send it any time you wish, and you can be here in little over an hour."

"Erik, dear," Cathy said, her voice a bit uncertain. "I honestly can't tell if you are joking or not."

"He is not joking, Cathy," Christine laughed, fully understanding the woman's disbelief. She too had been rather stunned by Erik's wealth at the beginning, and while she had come to accept it, she had yet to fully embrace the lifestyle. "Your grandson is rather well off, having done extremely well for himself in the business world." She then looked over at her husband with furrowed brows. "Although, until this moment, even I had no idea he owned a private jet."

"And exactly how did you imagine I traveled, Christine?" Erik asked with a roll of his eyes. "Taking commercial airlines would be next to impossible while wearing a mask these days, what with so much fear of terrorists. No, owning a private plane is a necessity…not a luxury." He then cocked his head to one side in thought. "Though, I suppose it is a more luxurious way to fly."

By now, Hank and Cathy were laughing, finding Erik's matter of fact tone very amusing. Christine knew it would take some time for them to accept this new aspect of Erik's life, but since it meant they could meet the elderly couple sooner, and that the travel time would be more comfortable, she was sure they would adapt. And so, over the next hour, they did indeed make plans to come to New York, that very weekend in fact.

"We have downsized quite a bit over the past several years, selling off a good portion of our land to the neighbors, since we were getting too old to work it like we used to," Hank revealed. "But we kept a small corn field and a rather large vegetable garden that we need to get someone to tend to for us, but that shouldn't be a problem."

"And I'm sure that Milly, my friend down the road, would be happy to drive us to the airport if we asked her," Cathy added in an excited tone. "Oh, I can't believe we'll be meeting you two soon! This is like a dream come true."

"For me as well," Erik revealed. "I never imagined I would ever have the opportunity to meet anyone on my side of the family."

"Well, prepare yourself, son," Hank laughed. "Because here we come!"

* * *

 **Batten down the hatches and circle the wagons! The Grandparents are coming!**

 **I hope you are enjoying Hank and Cathy...I really do love writing for them, they are very sweet and funny too.**

 **Looks like Erik's mom was just a young confused girl who found herself in a bad situation...she wasn't evil...just mixed up and scared.**

 **Hope Erik can deal with meeting his grandparents...he is a bit emotionally challenged at times. ha ha.**

 **And good for several of you for figuring out what the final 'secret' was that needed solving!**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Bleaky: (65)** The child's gender is a mystery, but I mean a different one. However, you can always place bets on if it is a boy or a girl...Amir might even put up $100 on that...but don't tell Erik, he is opposed to betting on his child's gender. ha ha. Birth will be coming up soon. Thanks.

 **GuestWraithSnake: (65)** Of course we all have secrets...but that's the fun of it...keeping them! ha ha. Nope, no Meg's dad coming back. Nope, Raoul and Meg are soooo in love. No more deaths. No, Phil is going to be fine, we like him. NO WAY...Baby is going to be fine too. Erik did indeed heal quickly because he has a LOT of things to look forward to now. **(66)** Well it HAD to be action packed, we are getting near the end, and there are a LOT of loose ends to tie up. ha ha. I thought it was time that Christine knew that Charles approved of Erik and their marriage. Susan will be a wonderful mother someday to Christine. But an even better wife to Charles. ha ha. Toleration can lead to quiet disdain for Raoul. ha ha. Good, I am really excited about Erik's grandparents. Three couples in love...possibly three weddings? Well, Amir and Antoinette getting married would have been my first guess too, so why not have Christine suggest it, ha ha. Though I was not sure what Phil being there had to do with it. ha ha. Erik and Phil do get along well, but they are no longer in 'business' together. Erik has done is duty, got his record wiped clean, and now plans to retire from being an FBI informant...until the next time he is desperately needed, of course. ha ha.

 **Kristin: (65)** Carlotta slinked off and was never heard from again...UNLESS I decide to do a sequel (though unliely) and she can be the next super-villain. ha ha. Erik is not a very patient patient. ha ha. Amir and Antoinette ARE cute...and in love. *sigh* **(66)** More questions? Well, I hope I can answer them! I hope what's in that letter offers him peace too. A nursery with a sink and stuff is a brilliant idea! Erik loves having FBI agents in his debt...makes him feel powerful. ha ha. Next time he jay-walks, he can just pull out his FBI-IOU and get off scot free. ha ha. Family gatherings WILL be a pip...but fun. Erik is over the moon about the baby and wants to do everything a normal father would...to the max! Gerald is a buff dude...he can handle it. Thanks.

 **Cayla: (65)** Glad you noticed my 'Siren of the Sea' mention...I did enjoy sticking that in for kicks. You can have all the fluff you want. Yep, one more mystery to solve. Amir does love to tease Erik...about anything! Amir is super smart...and smart enough to find a way to get money by letting Erik do all the work too. ha ha. Watch out Erik...Amir and Antoinette might just take over Phantom Enterprises and kick you out. But taking down the mob did help HIM feel worthy. And it really, what says "I love you" more than taking out a cartel? When you care enough to eliminate the very best. ha ha. Thanks. **(66)** Yes, once Charles got his voice back, there's no stopping him...he has a lot to say. ha ha. And he is like Erik in that way, music is HIS first love as well. Erik is head over heels in love with the idea of being a daddy, and putting together baby furniture is a very 'normal' thing for a dad to do...so he WANTED to do it too. Yep, I am trying to tie up everyone's loose ends...Raffie and Maria included. Erik and Christine don't even resemble the characters they were at the start...and that is the way a story should go. Well, knowing about his mom has given him a slight peace of mind he didn't have before, that's for sure. But now, how will his grandparents react...and how will he react to them? Thanks.

 **Guest RP:** **(65)** YEP, you got it right, Amir is shaking down Erik's family tree. Yep, Amir is taking over as head of Phantom Industries...at least for a while...and he won't burn anything down. But I bet he and Antoinette will be smooching a lot in his office. ha ha. No baby names yet...but they ARE talking about them. Oh, he will still smother her a bit...it's just his way. OH yes, I always thought "In Her Eyes" was Erik singing to Christine. He's not a hero, or an angel, just a man who is trying to love her like no other...and succeeding! Perfect song! Thanks.

 **Katie B:** Raoulotta Morticia Thorn? Oh man, are you trying to KILL Erik? ha ha. That made me laugh. Thanks


	68. Chapter 68

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 **Monday's Chapter!**

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 **And if you have not received your response for your review yet...it's coming! I am once again a little bit behind. But I'm catching up!**

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 **Chapter 68**

 **~X~**

* * *

The rest of the week passed with agonizing slowness, but Erik and Christine made good use of their time by moving back into their old bedroom, now that construction on the baby's room was completed. This way, when Hank and Cathy came, they could use the downstairs bedroom, and not be forced to climb the stairs…not that this was a problem for them, they said.

By Friday, they were both a jangle of nerves, but since Hank and Cathy would not be arriving until five, Erik insisted that Christine not miss a day of school. She might be ahead of everyone else vocally, in Erik's opinion, but she still needed to study hard and make a good showing in class.

It was decided that Gerald would go to the airport to pick them up, since Erik was still a bit nervous about meeting them, and it was decided that doing so on his home turf would be the easiest.

When they heard the limo coming up the driveway, they took a deep breath and headed outside, hand in hand as they stood on the front steps and waited. Gerald hopped out and came around to open the door, but Hank beat him to it.

"I told you before, young man, we don't cotton to all this fussing," he said with a smile. "Now, do I tip you or something? I'm not sure how this works."

"No, Mr. Simmons, you don't have to tip me," Gerald laughed, having thoroughly enjoyed ferrying the kindly couple from the airport. "Your grandson pays me quite well, believe me." He then headed to the back of the limo to retrieve their luggage.

Hank had just assisted Cathy out of the car when they spotted Erik and Christine, waiting at the bottom of the steps. And without even offering a greeting or a hello, the older couple crossed the expanse and wrapped the two in an unexpected, and rather startling, embrace. Christine was quick to return the gesture, though she couldn't help but turn her head so that she could see how Erik was handling his grandfather's sudden hug. His eyes were huge, and his arms remained at his side, his hands in tight fists, but at least he wasn't running away.

"Well, Erik," Hank said, stepping back and getting a good look at his grandson for the first time. "You certainly inherited the Simmon's height, boy! You're as tall as me!" And it was true, for though his hair was grey and his hands a bit gnarled from years of hard labor, Hank and Erik truly stood eye to eye. "And look at that fine head of crow-black hair you got…oh yes, back in my day that was the color I sported as well."

Before he could even think of how to respond, Cathy had released Christine and moved over to embrace Erik herself. However when she pulled away, she had to crane her neck in order to look him in the face. When she did, she gave a gasp of delight.

"But, oh…you inherited Kimberly's eyes," Cathy announced. "That distinctive golden hue you get from my side of the family, Erik. Passed down from your great grandmother, Bertha May."

"Do I now?" Erik laughed, finding that he loved each and every tid-bit they had to share. Hearing about his heritage was a newfound joy, and he wanted to hear it all. "I had initially planned to offer you a DNA test, assuming that you would wish to know for certain that I am your daughter's child, but perhaps…"

Here Hank cut Erik off, a look of shock in his eyes.

"We see no need for that, son!" he insisted. "I mean, we were thoroughly convinced of your heritage the moment we spoke with you…but seeing you now only confirms it in our eyes." He then shuffled a bit nervously. "Although…if you require more proof than that, we would be willing to take the test with you…if that's what _you_ want."

"I am more than satisfied…I require no tests," Erik told them with a smile.

"Good!" Cathy beamed, once more wrapping Erik in a grandmotherly embrace. "Sorry about all the hugging, my dear, but I've waited thirty eight years to hold you in my arms," She gave Erik one final squeeze before stepping back beside Hank, wiping at her eyes. She was shorter than Erik, by far, but stood eye to eye with Christine. Her hair had also turned grey, but still retained a bit of the blond color it had apparently once been, and even though her skin was wrinkled, it didn't hide the happiness and joy that shined through. "And now that I can…you best get used to it, for I have a lot of time to make up for."

"I…I will do my best," Erik chuckled, though a bit nervously.

"Good!" Hank stated, offering Erik his hand this time and shaking it firmly. "Because it's a pleasure to meet you at last, son. A true pleasure!"

"For me as well, I assure you," Erik responded, truly hoping he could deal with all this affection at once. "Why don't you come inside and relax? I am sure you are both tired."

"Tired? From what?" Hank asked with a shake of his head. "Certainly not from all the pampering we got, both at the airport and then on the plane! I swear that nice flight attendant lady must have refilled my drink a dozen times, not to mention the fancy snacks she served…well I still don't know what half of them were, but they were delicious!"

"And then, when we arrived, your nice driver wouldn't even let us carry our own bags to the car," Cathy went on. "I felt like royalty when he opened the door and helped me inside that limousine. Oh, just wait till my friend, Milly, hears about this! I'll be the talk of the canasta group for sure!"

All of this was said as they made their way inside, with Erik and Christine smiling the entire time. Gerald followed them in, excusing himself as he carried their bags to the downstairs guest room where they would be staying. When he returned, Hank stopped him.

"Now, are you sure you don't want a tip?" the elderly man asked once more, digging into his pocket.

"No, not at all," Gerald smiled. "It was my pleasure to drive you, no gratuity needed. And any time you want to go anywhere, I'd be more than happy to take you."

"Well, at least let us give you a bit of gas money," Cathy insisted, taking a five dollar bill out of her purse and sticking it in Gerald jacket pocket, not taking no for an answer. It was just such a grandmotherly thing to do that the helpless chauffeur couldn't say no, thanking her warmly as if she had gifted him a million dollars.

"Do enjoy your visit," Gerald chuckled, giving them a jaunty salute, before heading back outside.

"What a nice boy," Cathy hummed. "And he had such nice things to say about the both of you as well. I can tell he really likes working for you, Erik dear."

"And we couldn't get along without him either," Christine spoke up quickly, seeing that Erik was a bit stunned by this news. She found it sad that he didn't realize just how many people truly liked him.

"Well, now…this is quite the place you got here," Hank remarked, tipping his head back a bit as he admired the vaulted ceilings and the grand staircase leading to the second floor. "Must take you a good spell to get from one end to the other…not to mention top to bottom."

"I promise to give you the full tour after dinner," Erik assured them. "But why don't we start with your room, so you can settle in?" He held out his hand, gesturing towards the hallway as he led the way. Yet before they could get too far, Mrs. Murphy poked her head out the kitchen door and gave a happy squeak.

"And these must be your grandparents from Kentucky!" she stated, stepping out as she dried her hands on a towel. "I have to say, I was a bit intimidated to hear I'd be cooking for such honored guests tonight. I've become used to Erik and Christine's likes and dislikes where food in concerned, but I hope a nice pot-roast and vegetables will tickle your fancy."

"Pot-roast?" Hank asked, rather taken aback by the appearance of the unexpected lady. "Ma'am, you're speaking our language, and no doubt about it. And here I was worried that we'd have to get used to fancy New York food, like raw fish…or pizza."

"Hank, Cathy, we'd like you to meet Laura Murphy, the wonderful woman who cooks dinner for us," Christine introduced. "Another person we don't know how we would get by without."

"It's a pleasure, Laura," Cathy said, shaking her hand warmly. "We've never had anyone cook for us before, but I can tell just from looking at you that we'll love anything you fix. But if you need any help, don't hesitate to give a holler, I'm no slouch in the kitchen myself."

"And here's the proof of that right here," Hank stated proudly, patting his belly with a wide smile.

This caused everyone to laugh, and Mrs. Murphy excused herself to tend to dinner, while Hank and Cathy got settled in.

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Christine could tell that Erik was still a bit nervous, but holding up well, and by the time his grandparents had unpacked and washed up, Amir, Antoinette and Meg had all arrived, having been invited to dinner as well. Introductions were made and everyone gathered in the sun room for drinks before dinner was served. Erik opened an expensive bottle of wine, and poured everyone a glass, except for Christine, who stuck to plain grape juice.

"So, Amir, how long have you and Antoinette been married?" Hank asked, causing the Persian to nearly choke on his glass of wine.

"Umm…we're not married," he stammered, with Antoinette patting him on the back in hopes of helping him catch his breath.

"Oh, forgive me," Hank said apologetically. "Just from the way you two were looking at each other, I just assumed you were hitched. It's pretty obvious that you're in love though."

"Yes, well…things are still a bit new for us," Antoinette stated, looking slightly embarrassed by Hank's observations. "We're taking things slow."

"You can say that again!" Meg laughed, rolling her eyes. "A snail with a peg leg would be faster than they are!"

"Well, I'm sure that they know best," Cathy broke in, noticing that Amir and Antoinette were becoming rather uncomfortable. "But you can't have lived as long as Hank and I have and not recognize when a couple truly belong together. It's written on both your faces, and no mistake about it." She then turned to stare at Erik and Christine. "And you two…well, I don't think I've ever seen two people more suited for one another or so deeply in love. It warms me right down to the cockles of my heart. And if Hank and I have learned anything in our eighty-some years, it's that when you find the one you're meant to be with, don't hesitate. For you never know what tomorrow might bring, and no sense in wasting precious time."

"Oh, funny you should mention that," Christine laughed. "Because Erik seems to subscribe to the same philosophy as you…about not wasting time, and acting on impulse." Of course she was referring to his sudden and unexpected proposal, but she chose not to elaborate, simply smiling up at him with all the love in her heart.

"So, Christine, does your family live nearby?" Cathy asked, taking another pleasing sip of her wine.

"My father is the only family I have," she explained. "And yes, he is currently living just outside the city, at a care facility called Leathwood."

"Oh, is the man in poor health?" Hank asked, instantly concerned.

"He was, but he's getting better," Christine told him proudly. She gave them both a quick rundown on his condition, making sure to give Erik all the credit for seeing that he got the best care available. "He's speaking much better now and making great strides in his therapy, even being able to stand on his own for nearly a minute this week."

"Well, we look forward to meeting him while we're here," Cathy smiled.

They chatted a bit longer, until the dining room door opened and Mrs. Murphy stepped out.

"Dinner is served," she announced, calling them all into supper.

.

.

Christine was tickled to see so many seats occupied around the large table, always having imagined the wonderful dinner parties they could have in this fine room. Well, now it was filled with family and friends, making Christine's heart nearly burst with love.

"Tell us, Mr. Dessan, what do you do for Erik?" Hank asked, as the food began to be passed around the table.

"Well, that is a tricky question," Amir laughed, eyeing Erik with a grin. "Some might say I'm his conscience…while others see me as his body guard."

"While I usually consider him a pest," Erik broke in, passing the plate of vegetables to his left.

"Which, in Erik and Amir speak, means they are best friends, and have been for years," Christine translated, smiling sweetly at both men when they scoffed and rolled their eyes. "It can be rather amusing to watch them interact, and don't believe a word they say to the contrary. They're like brothers."

"Unfortunately, the brothers they most often act like are Cain and Able," Antoinette laughed, causing the rest to join in. "And more times than not, I'm the one serving as referee, but as they say…it's a living."

"Oh, I have no doubt," Cathy laughed. "However, I'm certain that is not your full-time job. I can tell by the way you speak, and carry yourself, that you are one of those smart professional ladies."

"Well, thank you for saying so," Antoinette laughed. "I'm the head of the legal department at Phantom Industries."

"Antoinette sees that any purchase or acquisition I make is done to the letter of the law," Erik spoke up, praising his legal aid highly. "And believe me, I wouldn't be half as wealthy as I am now without her help."

"If that's so…why don't you give her a raise?" Amir asked, grinning at his friend. "And me too, while you're at it?"

"Oh, I fully intend to review what the two of you have been doing in my absence," Erik stated. "After I have seen for myself if the company is still standing, I will consider if you two merit an increase in wages…or not."

"I think I see what you mean about their odd relationship," Hank whispered to Christine, though easily loud enough for all to hear, prompting a round of laughter.

"And you my dear, what do you do?" Cathy asked Meg, who was seated across from her. "You're such a pretty thing, you must be one of those glamorous fashion models, am I right?"

"Don't I wish!" Meg chuckled. "No, I'm just an underpaid, under-appreciated dancer, nothing more."

"Now don't let her modesty fool you," Amir quickly spoke up. "Meg's a prima ballerina in the making, and not far off from that goal either, if you ask me. You will have to attend one of Juilliard's recitals to experience the full effect of her talent."

"And Christine's as well," Antoinette was quick to add. "Between her and Meg, they could put on an entire show and sell out every seat."

"Now, Antoinette, don't you go building me up more than necessary," Christine said with a blush.

"Ah, but it is the truth," Erik agreed firmly. "My lovely wife has the voice of an angel, not to mention the face and disposition of one as well."

"Erik stop!" Christine insisted, her cheeks now bright red.

"I will not," he stated. "You sing beautifully and I am very proud of you."

"Well, if that's true, I have you to thank for it," she smiled, turning to Hank and Cathy. "You see, Erik is a master musician, and vocal teacher, giving me lessons nearly every night. And if you truly want to hear the voice of an angel, you should hear _him_ sing."

"We would love to hear from you both!" Cathy said gleefully. "Hank and I can't carry a tune in a bucket, but Kimberly…well, _she_ had the true talent in the family. The set of pipes on that girl, let me tell you!"

"So Erik inherited his musical ability from her?" Christine asked eagerly.

"Well, he didn't get it from me," Hank laughed. "No telling where such things come from, but no one from my side had talent with anything other than growing crops. But give me a harmonica, and I can play a pretty lively jig for you."

"Sounds to me like a real family band!" Amir said, slapping his hand on the table good naturedly. "Maybe you should have taken the name Von Trapp, instead of Thorn, Erik."

The look that Erik shot Amir for that remark had everyone in stitches, and the rest of the meal continued on just as lively, much to the enjoyment of all.

.

.

The following two days went wonderfully, with Hank and Cathy getting to meet Charles, and the three of them hit it off splendidly. On Saturday, they took them on a tour of Phantom Industries, to a few of the sights of NY, as well as a fancy dinner and an evening at the theater. And through it all, Erik was amazed at just how relaxed he was around them, not feeling self-conscious or uncomfortable in the least.

Sunday was spent around the house, with Erik showing them the full grounds of the property, and then dazzling them with a few of his original songs, sung by Christine, of course. They were even able to coax him into a duet with his wife, the older couple giving them a standing ovation when they were done. Both Christine and Erik blushed at their praise, but were not sorry in the least that they had offered up the performance.

Because it was Mrs. Murphy's night off, Christine had offered to cook, deciding to make Beef Wellington again since it was such a special occasion. Cathy insisted on helping, and as the two ladies bonded in the kitchen, Erik and Hank found themselves sitting out on the patio talking and enjoying the night air.

"I have to say, this is nothing like I pictured New York," Hank told him, taking a sip from the long neck bottle of an imported beer. "It's quite peaceful out here."

"That is the reason I purchased this place," Erik revealed. "When I met Christine, I knew my penthouse at Phantom Industries was no place for a wife and family. And this house just seemed to fit all my requirements, including the two guest houses for Amir and Gerald."

"For which I'm sure they are very appreciative," the older man nodded. "Cathy and I are very grateful to you for allowing us to come visit, and we realize that for you, all of this came rather sudden. For us as well, I suppose, but at least we've known about your existence for a few years now…just not where you were." He then turned in his chair so that he was looking directly at Erik, his face serious. "You were under no obligation to accept me and Cathy into your life, but we are both overjoyed that you're willing to give us a chance. Kimberly made some terrible mistakes, and to this day we look back and wonder if we might have been to blame, or if we could have prevented it. Yet she believed she was in love…and there was no stopping her. But we truly hope that you can one day find it in your heart to forgive her, for everyone makes mistakes, we're just so sorry that you have had to pay for many of hers."

"I used to hate my mother…because of this," Erik stated, gesturing to his mask. "Believing that I was marked this way due to her intentional negligence, but after reading her letter…I can see it was not done maliciously. She was young, she made mistakes, but she was willing to take responsibility for them. She was simply not afforded the chance to do so."

"That's very big of you to say, son," Hank said, placing an affectionate hand on Erik's shoulder. "No matter what, Kimberly was still my little girl…just like you will always be my grandson. So if, and when, you feel comfortable enough to show us what you hide behind your mask, please know, it won't matter one hill of beans to us. We love you, Erik. Always!"

"I will remember that," he nodded, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. "And while I have spent most of my life unsure if I was even capable of feeling love, let alone having it returned, with Christine in my life, I am starting to believe I can. I have enjoyed meeting you and Cathy very much, and I can say without a doubt that we are off to a good start in the family department."

"Excellent, that's what I like to hear," Hank grinned, slapping Erik on the back. "Now, before the ladies call us into dinner, how about you take me to that garage of yours and show me those fancy cars Gerald tells us you own? I can't say that I've ever been in anything that didn't come off the assembly line at the Ford Industry."

"Then you are truly in for a treat… _Grandfather_ ," Erik told him, trying out the title at last. "How about we go for a ride?"

"It would be my pleasure," he smiled, standing up as the two of them headed back inside, taking their first big step in male bonding.

.

.

Monday afternoon came far too quickly, and with it a trip to the airport to see Hank and Cathy off. Christine had insisted on staying home from school, not wanting to miss out on the final few hours with them. It was a tearful farewell, but tempered by the knowledge that they were only an hour long plane ride away…any time they wished. When Cathy pulled Erik into another big hug, this time he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her in return, kissing her cheek in a loving fashion.

"You take care of yourself, son," Hank instructed, shaking his hand. "And don't you go smothering that wife of yours by being too overprotective. Women hate that."

"That they do," Cathy nodded, the look on her face telling them that Hank had learned that lesson…the hard way. "And we promise to be back out when the baby is born, if not before."

"You are welcome any time," Christine assured them, giving both a hug and a kiss. "And perhaps after Jr. here is born, we can come out to Kentucky and visit you as well."

"We'd love that," Hank grinned. "Now keep in touch, you hear? With all the newfangled technology, there ain't no excuse for us not to."

"We will," Erik promised, already planning on sending them a laptop set up with Skype and Facetime. "Let us know when you get home."

The two of them waved as they boarded the private jet, with Erik and Christine standing there watching until the plane was in the air and heading west.

"I do believe I will miss them," Erik stated, giving a heavy sigh as he shaded his eyes against the bright sky.

"Of course you will, they're your grandparents," Christine affirmed.

"Yes…that they are," Erik agreed, sounding quite proud of that fact.

.

.

As Gerald drove them home, Erik and Christine talked about all they had done with Hank and Cathy, as well as all the things they wanted to do next time they visited. It was quite a new experience for Erik to be planning things with people, and he began to wonder if he should start a list. After all, the first one he made had turned out very well.

Gerald had just pulled in front of the house and was opening the door for Erik and Christine to exit, when they saw Amir's BMW heading up the driveway.

"What is he doing here?" Erik asked, eyeing the car with suspicion. "Amir said he would continue covering for me at Phantom Industries until tomorrow."

"Maybe something's wrong?" Christine suggested, fear tinging her words.

"There better _not_ be," Erik growled. He'd already had enough of that to last several lifetimes.

So the three of them stood there, waiting for the car to come to a stop. When it did, Gerald quickly headed over and opened the door for Antoinette who was sitting in the passenger seat.

"Hey, quit trying to make me look bad," Amir told the large bald man jokingly. "You got your own woman, go impress her."

"Charlotte is already thoroughly impressed with me," he laughed, next holding the door open for Meg, who had been occupying the back. He then leaned casually against the limo as he waited to see what all the hullabaloo was about.

"Care to tell us what is going on?" Erik asked, when Amir, Antoinette, and Meg came to stand before them. "I trust you are not here to tell us that Phantom Industries has burned down…are you?"

"No, not at all," Amir assured him with a wide grin. "In fact, we have some very good news."

"Oh?" Erik asked, his left eyebrow raising in curiosity. "And what might that be?" It was then that he noticed Meg bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, acting as if she might burst from excitement at any moment.

"Annie and I went down to the courthouse this morning…and got married!" As he said this, Amir reached out and held up Antoinette's hand, showing everyone the stunning diamond ring that glittered in the sunlight. "We're officially man and wife!"

"HOLY BUCKETS!" Christine screeched, using one of Meg's own expressions as she leapt forward, throwing her arms around Antoinette. "You really did it? You two got married?"

"Signed the papers and everything," Antoinette grinned, happy over Christine's apparent approval. "I hope you aren't disappointed that we chose not to tell anyone…well, except for Meg. I couldn't keep it a secret from her, especially since we live together. Besides, it was kind of a spur of the moment thing, but it just felt right."

"I got to be the maid of honor!" Meg beamed.

"Well we couldn't be happier for the both of you, truly!" Christine gushed, next embracing Amir, so pleased for her bodyguard and friend. "But what brought this on? Last Friday at dinner you said you were taking things slow…and now you've moved to warp speed!"

"It was what Hank and Cathy said…about not wasting time when you know it's right," Amir revealed. "I've loved Annie for over ten years, and miracle of miracles, she loves me in return. So last night we talked, and decided that it was foolish to wait another day. So, first thing this morning we went down, filled out the papers, and got married."

"And since you are cleared to return to work, Mr. Thorn, we thought now would be a perfect time to take a honeymoon." Antoinette added. "After all, I've been looking for an opportunity to cash in that thoughtful gift certificate you gave me to the Hamptons."

Amir had been smiling broadly all this while, but when he looked up at Erik, his eyebrows furrowing just a bit at the masked man's obvious scowl. "You…you are all right with this, aren't you, Erik?"

 _"All right?"_ he responded, his tone sounding anything but all right. "How can I be? Especially when I know exactly what you two were thinking when you planned all this!"

"What are you talking about? Amir demanded, suddenly on the defensive. "The only reason we did this was because we're in love!"

"Oh, no, the true reason is quite apparent," Erik countered. "Obviously you left my office in total disarray, and now wish to avoid my reprimand by marrying Antoinette and sneaking away on your honeymoon! Admit it!"

It took Amir about three seconds to recognize that Erik was only joking, with the slight hint of a smile being a dead giveaway. Soon everyone was grinning as well, more than used to Erik and Amir's odd way of communicating.

"You got me, Erik," the Persian laughed. "That was indeed the only reason I chose to enter into the bonds of matrimony with Antoinette. There's no fooling you, is there?"

"No there is not," Erik huffed. "However, since you are willing to admit your deception, I suppose I can overlook it this once," Erik replied, doing his best to remain straight faced and sullen. "But do not count on my kind and generous nature a second time. Understand?"

"Perfectly, and I wouldn't dream of it," Amir assured him, reaching out as his friend extended his hand in a gesture of congratulations, shaking it firmly with a smile. That was all they needed to say, for both knew the sentiments behind each word.

"Now…hand it over," Erik demanded, snapping his fingers and holding out his palm.

"Hand what over?" Amir questioned, his brows furrowing once more.

"My hundred dollars," the masked man stated.

"WHAT FOR?" Now Amir was quite indignant.

"For not asking me to be your best man!" Erik told him in an irritating tone. "Antoinette was generous enough to ask Meg to stand up for her…yet I am not due the same courtesy?"

"You didn't ask _me_ to be _your_ best man!" Amir countered.

"Beside the point," Erik said with a dismissing wave. "Now hand it over."

Amir's eyes narrowed venomously…but still, he did indeed dig into his pocket and pull out the money, handing it over to Erik with a grumble.

"Thank you," he nodded, before stepping to the side and enfolding Antoinette in his arms, giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek. "My sincerest congratulation to you both," he told her, shocking the poor woman by his uncharacteristic actions. "Though I know you could have done much better for yourself, it is kind of you to take pity on this poor man, and put him out of his misery." He then slipped the hundred dollars into her hand. "Consider this a consolation prize. However, I would suggest you use it to purchase ear-plugs and air freshener. If you plan on living with Amir, you will need them."

"HEY!" the Persian squawked.

"ERIK!" Christine scolded, rolling her eyes at his less than tasteful jest.

"I…um…I will, Mr. Thorn," Antoinette stammered, not at all sure what to say.

"None of that now," he said, holding up his hand in a halting gesture. "I believe after all these years, it is high time you started calling me Erik," he offered, watching as her eyes grew even wider. "For if what Christine foolishly insists is true, and Amir is as a brother to me…that would make you my sister-in-law."

"What does that make me?" Meg piped up, her indomitable spirit and sense of humor always there to break the ice. "Can I call you Uncle Erik and Auntie Christine?"

"Do, and you will find yourself banned from my presence," Erik informed her with a growl…though the little wink he gave her told everyone he didn't mean a word of it. "Now, how about we all go inside and celebrate this wonderful news? I believe I have a lovely bottle of Chateau Lafite Rothschild Pauillac that would be perfect for this occasion."

"Sounds good to me!" Amir stated, rubbing his hands together with glee, apparently forgetting all about the joke about the air freshener and the earplugs. He then held out one arm to Antoinette, and the other to Meg, as they all headed for the door. At the top of the steps, Erik stopped and turned around, looking back at Gerald. "Are you coming?" he asked, matter of factly. "After all, you are family too."

And with a wide grin, one that told Erik his words meant the world to him, Gerald bounded up the stairs, as everyone went inside to celebrate this wonderful and joyous event.

* * *

 **Awww, Gerald is part of the family.**

 **Whooohoooo, Amir and Antoinette got hitched!**

 **And this time Antoinette got the $100!**

 **So did you like the grandparents? They really did want to tip Gerald, right?**

 **I hope you enjoyed their meet and greet, as well as the heartfelt talk he and Hank had.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Cayla:** Of course they are the nicest people in the world...it is what Erik deserves! Having more out there who show him love without fear will help him greatly. Yep, having that private jet is a big help...no one wants to ride a bus for 15 hours! Oh, I'm sure they will use them for baby sitting duty quite often. ha ha Thanks.

 **Kristin:** Glad you like them...I had fun writing them. Kimberly died...she had complications, died during delivery, her body was cremated and ashes put somewhere...no one knows. Hank and Cathy ARE very happy, as I'm sure you just read. So is Erik. Sorry...part of me doesn't want it to end either, but unfortunately, it must. Thanks.

 **GuestWraithSnake:** Erik is the king of over-reacting. ha ha. And yes, he does do that in all of my stories, ha ha. You have a good memory. Thanks! Erik has tied up most of his loose ends...MOST of them. Susan and Charles were meant to be a couple from the start...I think most people saw it. ha ha. I don't think a triple wedding is in the cards. ha ha. Phil and Erik ARE friends...begrudgingly. Erik has no interest in law enforcement...he would rather be the one breaking the rules. If Erik got in the FBI, he would see Raoul too often...and egad...what if they got put on the same team...or worse...Raoul was given the lead and Erik had to take orders from HIM? Oh, no! Glad you like the grandparents! Thanks.

 **Bleaky:** You can borrow Erik's grandparents any time they are not visiting Erik in NY. They would love to adopt you. Voting for twins are you? Weeeeee'llllll seeeeeee. Thanks.

 **Katie B:** Yep, the Grandparents have landed. Baby will be coming very, very soon! Yes, it will be a boy or a girl. That's all I can say. Nope, can't tell you. Beg all you want, but I still can't tell you...Erik would punjab me for sure! Tune in tomorrow though. Thanks.


	69. Chapter 69

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 **Tuesday's Chapter!**

 **And if you have ANY snippet cards left, this is your very last opportunity to spend them.**

 **.**

 **PS. Who was the person who asked to spend their snippet but signed in as a guest and didn't leave their name? **

**.**

 **Chapter 69**

 **~X~**

* * *

Today was the day, the moment Christine had dreamed of for so long…her father was being released from Leathwood! He was walking on his own now, with a cane of course, but still under his own power. His speech was nearly back to normal, with only the occasional stutter or hesitation, and most of the dexterity in his fingers had returned as well. All in all, it was nothing short of a miraculous recovery, one Christine credited to Dr. Mills, Erik's financial assistance, and her father's stubborn nature, never willing to give up.

It was decided that he would take the downstairs guest bedroom at the house, so that he was not required to climb the stairs multiple times a day, though the doctors had said that would be good exercise for him. They had already redone the room to suit him, with many of his personal belongings set in place. All that was needed now, was for him to say his final farewells and to drive him home.

Christine knew she was going to become emotional, her hormones already so far out of whack from the baby, that she had stuffed her pockets with tissues in anticipation. And sure enough, the moment she walked into her father's room at Leathwood…the waterworks began.

"I can't believe you're coming home at last," Christine wailed hurrying to her father's side, as quickly as her extended belly would allow. He stood by the large window, turning just in time to take her in his arms, hugging her tightly as she sobbed. "There was a time when I thought this day would never come."

"I'll let you in on a little secret, my dear," he whispered, squeezing her back. "There were times when I didn't think it would come either. But you never gave up hope, and the last thing I wanted to do was disappoint my little girl. So here we are…having come through the long tunnel of darkness to the light once again. You and me, kid, together as always."

"Except now we aren't alone, Papa," she grinned, pulling back and rubbing her extremely round stomach. "In just a few weeks we'll be a family of four." When Christine said this, she looked over her shoulder, gazing lovingly at her husband as he stood in the doorway. Erik had been a real trooper during the length of her pregnancy, being at her beck and call night and day, making sure she had everything she desired or needed. And Christine had truly run that man ragged, first with odd cravings at two in the morning, then with her uncontrollable mood swings, to her constant begging for foot and back rubs as the increasing baby weight took its toll. But through it all, he had remained calm, fulfilled all his duties with a smile, and still looked at her as if she were perfection itself. The man was a saint.

"Are you ready to go home, Mr. Daaé?" Erik asked, looking around the room for any last items that needed to be taken. The shelves were empty, and the dressers and closet cleaned out, and even his bed was neatly made, all ready to be stripped and redone for the next patient who needed a medical miracle.

"I think I am," Charles nodded, staring one last time out the large plate glass window at the manicured grounds and half frozen pond. Winter had arrived, but Leathwood still held such beauty, even beneath a light blanket of snow. "I'm actually going to miss this place. It's been my home for nearly a year now, and I didn't realize how hard it would be to leave."

"We know what you really mean, Papa," Christine teased him. "It's Susan that you're going to miss, isn't that right?"

"Guilty as charged," Charles laughed. Over the past few months, as his health and speech improved, so had his relationship with his pretty little nurse. Susan and Charles were now officially dating, or courting, as they chose to call it. Dating was far too modern sounding for them, and they were quite firm on the fact that they were not a couple of teenagers anymore. Still, not seeing Susan every day would be a definite change for him, and Charles was not looking forward to that aspect of leaving.

"Well don't worry, Papa," Christine consoled him. "You can invite Susan over any time you want and you two can cuddle on the sofa. We won't even attempt to chaperone you."

"I should hope not," he huffed. "Exactly who is the parent and who is the child here?"

"I would say I'm both!" Christine grinned patting her belly with a laugh.

"That you are, my dear, that you are," Charles agreed. He then turned and looked at Erik for a moment, before leaning in to kiss his daughter's cheek. "Would you allow your husband and me to speak alone for a bit, Christine?"

"Umm…all right," she nodded, somewhat hesitantly. As far as she knew, Erik and her father had been getting on quite well, and she thought there was no issue with him moving in to their house…but perhaps she was wrong. "I'll just wait outside." And giving Erik a slight shrug of her shoulders, she left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Now that they were alone, Erik felt a bit unsettled, not quite sure what his father-in-law wanted to say. So he stood there, his fingers laced behind his back, and waited.

"Erik…I want to thank you very much for all you have done for me and Christine," Charles began. "I know she is happy, well cared for, and in a much better situation than I had ever hoped for her. Since the day they placed her as a babe in my arms, I knew I would do anything and everything I could to protect her. Christine has been my greatest accomplishment, my one shining star in a life of mediocre achievements." When Erik opened his mouth to protest that last part, Charles held up his hand. "No…it's true. And when you hold _your_ child for the first time, you'll understand this as well. Nothing is more important. Your child will always come first." The older man stepped closer to Erik, his walking cane allowing him to steady himself as he went. "And that is why, I feel I am honor bound to tell you this. Even though I respect you now and see that my daughter chose wisely, I swore to myself the day I was forced to sit there in silence and watch her marry you, that if I was ever able to walk and talk again, I would give you a piece of my mind."

Erik visibly swallowed, knowing this had been a long time in coming. So squaring his shoulders, he nodded his head, ready for the scolding of a lifetime.

"I wanted to rip you limb from limb as I watched you place that ring on my baby's finger, knowing that she was only agreeing to marry you because of me," Charles continued. "She put on a brave face, trying to make me believe she was happy, but a father knows. And that night, as Susan took me home, going on and on about how wonderful the wedding was and what a catch you were, all I could do was imagine the horrors my little girl was being put through. I hated you with every fiber of my being, Erik Thorn."

Here Erik flinched, the words like a knife to his gut, realizing what Charles must have assumed took place that very night - having no idea that he had already agreed to giving Christine a two month reprieve from such marital duties.

"But then…slowly, as I saw my daughter blossom into the woman she was always meant to be, I began to realize I was wrong. That you were not the debauched scoundrel I took you for." To Erik's relief, Charles' voice now held a little less malice. "Christine told me about the alterations you made to the contract you had her sign…about giving her time to acclimate to her new status as a wife, as well as the clause about her safety, and how you swore that you would never harm her in any way. I truly respected you for those concessions, Erik…it shows you had a fine character."

"I worship the ground your daughter walks upon, Mr. Daaé," Erik assured him. "I would do anything for her, sacrifice whatever it took, even my own life, if it meant her happiness."

"I no longer doubt that," Charles nodded. "And even though I am in your debt for paying for my treatment, not to mention opening your home to me until I can get back on my feet financially, there is one more thing I feel I must do."

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Outside Christine paced back and forth, worry mounting as the minutes ticked by. What was going on in there? What were they talking about? She really hated being kept in the dark about things!

"Christine, I'm glad I caught you all before leaving," Dr. Mills told her as he, Susan and Jerome approached. "So today's the big day, your father is going home."

"He sure is!" Christine grinned, instantly happy over that fact. "And we have you three to thank for it. You all took such good care of him, we can honestly never repay you."

"Oh, I think your husband has done that quite nicely, thanks to his more than generous donations and continued support," Mills laughed. "Not to mention that new research wing he funded after I was called in to cure the common cold."

"Erik did what?" Christine questioned, her eyes wide with shock. "When?"

"The second week you two were married," the doctor laughed. "He called me up in the middle of the night, demanding that I get over to his house because you were dying."

"I wasn't dying!" she said with a roll of her eyes. "I had a simple cold."

"Yes, but when he offered to fund our new research wing if I got there in the next thirty minutes, I was out of bed like a shot."

"That sounds like Erik," Christine laughed, shaking her head in amusement.

"It just shows that he loves you, dear," Susan smiled. "And a man who loves you that much deserves a little understanding when it comes to his oddities."

"You just remember that when my father starts acting loony around you," Christine warned, causing the kindly nurse to blush. "Still I can't tell you how wonderful it was to know that my father had you here to look after him when I couldn't. It took away a lot of guilt I was feeling over not being here every day for him." She then turned to the muscular man with the wide smile. "And thank you as well, Jerome. Your care for him has been invaluable as well. He truly wouldn't be walking out of here today if it wasn't for all three of you."

"Speaking of Charles…where is he?" Susan asked, looking around. "I thought for sure he would be hot footing it to the door by now."

"He asked to speak with Erik alone in his room for a minute," she explained, her eyes straying to the closed door. "Yet, it's been a rather long time, maybe I should check on them."

Yet before she could raise her hand to knock, two loud thumps were heard from within, causing Christine's eyes to grow wide with panic, as she turned the knob and raced back inside, quickly followed by Mills, Susan, and Jerome. But what she saw made her skid to a stop, her hand covering her mouth in shock. For there, on the floor, lay her husband and her father, each appearing to be slightly in pain. Erik was holding his jaw, while Charles was gently rubbing his right hand.

"WHAT IN THE WORLD HAPPENED?" Christine shouted, unsure who she should go to first. "Are you two all right? Are you hurt?"

Jerome and Susan quickly went to Charles, assisting the older man up, and checking him for injuries. But thankfully, the floors at Leathwood had thick carpet and a nice rubber pad beneath it, preventing him from breaking any bones from the fall. Dr. Mills reached down and offered Erik a hand up, which he gladly accepted.

"Now speak! What happened?" Christine demanded.

"Well…you see," Charles began, still favoring his right hand, flexing his fingers with a wince or two.

"It was nothing, Christine," Erik broke in, gently working his jaw back and forth as if he were testing that it still worked. "We both tripped and fell. That is all."

"You…tripped?" she repeated, looking from one man to the other, and back again. "Both of you at the same time? You expect me to buy that?"

"I'm just learning to walk again, Christine," her father quickly pointed out. "And I'm still getting used to this cane." He held up the wooden walking stick, as if to prove his case. "Tripping is to be expected."

"All right… _you_ I might believe. But Erik? When was the last time _you_ fell?" she huffed, knowing very well they were trying to dupe her.

"When I fell for you, my love," he answered, a bright smile gracing his lips, ones that now appeared to be a bit swollen.

At that, it was impossible for Christine to stay angry, and she gave up, laughing out loud as everyone else joined in.

"How about we just get out of here, before anyone else trips and falls," Christine suggested, gesturing to the door. "If you two are ready, that is."

"I am," Erik nodded, looking over at his father-in-law. "How about you, Mr. Daaé?"

"Call me Charles," the older man instructed, giving Erik an approving smile, one that was returned by a look of gratitude and respect. He then looked at Susan, and patted her hand which rested on his arm. "And if this lovely lady will accompany me to the front door, I too am quite prepared to head to my new home." He then allowed his pretty little nurse to lead him out of the room.

Jerome bowed and held out his hand, offering for Christine to go next, with him right behind her, followed by Erik and Dr. Mills.

"You might want to get some ice on that jaw as soon as you can," he whispered, gesturing to the reddening area on the left side of his face. "Looks like Charles packs one hell of a punch."

"That he does," Erik chuckled. "And I thoroughly deserved it."

.

.

Four days later, with Charles comfortably settled in, the three waited anxiously for Gerald to return from the airport, where he had been sent to pick up Hank and Cathy. The elderly couple had been out to visit twice since their initial meeting, but both had insisted on being present for the birth of their great-grandchild, eager to meet the newest member of their family. Christine was as big as a house, according to her, and couldn't wait for the baby to arrive. Erik had taken to carrying her up and down the stairs, knowing that the action took a lot of effort, and worried that she might trip and fall.

Over the past few months, he had gone into overly-protective husband and father mode, not allowing Christine to lift a finger, and even halting their music lessons because he said the baby was pressing on her diaphragm too much and he didn't wish for her to strain her voice. She had also taken leave from school, with Meg throwing her an amazing baby shower on her final day in one of the practice rooms, inviting nearly everyone at Juilliard. Christine had been bowled over by the attendance, not to mention the pile of gifts she and the baby received. Even Professors Stanley and Reiner had added gifts to the pile, causing her to laugh when she saw the Baby Genius Step-To-Dance Piano Mat, and a mini set of drums. Christine thanked them kindly, yet knowing all the while that Erik would be handling their child's musical instruction quite nicely.

Within no time, they had filled the baby's room to bursting with every item they felt they needed…or didn't need, but thought they would get anyway. From furniture to toys to clothes. If it could be purchased, then Erik had to get it.

"I think ours will be the best dressed child in New York," Christine had laughed, while folding what appeared to be the millionth onesie and putting it in the already full dresser drawers. "And we haven't even bought anything specifically for a boy or girl yet."

"I have that covered as well, Christine," Erik told her with a smile. "The moment we know if we are having a boy or a girl, all I need to do is push one button and instantly a plethora of items will be delivered in either pink or blue. Including gender specific diapers and all the frilly dresses, or Armani suits, an infant might need."

"Armani doesn't make baby clothes," Christine laughed. But when Erik didn't appear to be joking, she sobered. "Do they?"

Yet, whether he was serious or not, Christine knew she could count on Erik to see that everything was handled efficiently and with the greatest care. He was after all a genius with nerves of steel…or so she thought.

Now, Christine was sitting in the sun room watching her father oiling his beloved violin. Charles had only recently returned to practicing in earnest, with Erik offering his assistance should it be required. The two men had spent quite a bit of time in the music room over the past several days, both bonding over their love of violins and music in general. Charles had been flabbergasted when Erik had offered to let him play his Guarneri, the man holding the instrument as if it were the Mona Lisa. Of course, as they began to debate the talents of many of the composers, Christine was not surprised to hear their voices become raised in a heated argument or two. But they always emerged as friends, willing to concede that everyone was entitled to their own opinions.

Charles had really begun to improve in his playing, and Christine had been treated to many duets played by him and Erik while he still recuperated at Leathwood. Since arriving home, those wonderful sessions only increased, delighting Christine to no end! Once or twice she had attempted to join in, singing the words to whatever it was they might be playing, but the baby had grown too large and was not allowing her ample air to belt it out like she was used to…thus she decided to leave the music to Erik and her father…for the time being.

As Christine sat there, smiling fondly at her father, she felt that odd shooting pain go through her back once more, something that had been irritating her a great deal since early that morning. Christine was not at all pleased with this new symptom, not to mention the sharp cramps that came and went, causing her to grit her teeth at the pain. Still, with the excitement of Erik's grandparents arriving, she had done her best to ignore it, chalking it up to excitement and stress. After all, the doctor had said to expect all sorts of odd feelings and flutters as the day of birth approached, but that was still over a week away.

Her attention was pulled from her discomfort by Erik, coming in to announce that Gerald had just been buzzed through the gate. His grandparents were here!

Taking her hand, Erik assisted Christine to her feet and led her to the door, with Charles following behind. Between the two of them, one pregnant and one using a cane, it took a few moments to get there, but when they did, Erik opened the door just in time to see Hank and Cathy coming up the steps. Their arms open wide, eager to hand out hugs and kisses. By now, Erik was used to their displays of affection and had come to accept them quite willingly. Once that was done, Hank stood back and looked Erik up and down.

"I swear you've grown at least an inch since I saw you last, Erik!" Hank stated giving him a goofy grin.

"Have I now?" Erik chuckled, cocking his head to the side skeptically.

"No, not really, but I always thought that was something a grandfather would say to his grandson when he's not seen him in a while," he said with a shrug. "Thought I would try it out, but I don't think it really works very well."

"I agree," Erik laughed, loving the humor of the older man.

"But Christine, on the other hand, you _have_ grown…and quite a lot!" Cathy cried, instantly putting her hands on her granddaughter's protruding stomach, eager to feel the baby within. "I swear that this little one's going to come out walking and talking."

"Oh, I hope not!" Christine laughed. "The last thing I need after enduring labor is my child scolding me for eating all that spicy food I've been craving."

"And Charles!" Hank cried, greeting Christine's father with a hearty handshake. "So good to see you up and around this time! I know it's only been a month or two since we were here last, but I've got to say, you look in tip-top shape."

"I feel pretty good as well," he insisted, happy to see the friendly folks again.

Erik ushered them all in, thanking Gerald as he waved and drove the limo towards Amir's guest house. The Persian and Antoinette had initially been perplexed about where they should live after getting married. His guest house on the property would have been ideal, just the right size for two, but Antoinette hated the thought of being so far away from Meg, who had liked the idea of remaining in their city apartment. Thus, when Erik suggested that the newlyweds take the thirteenth floor at Phantom Industries, even offering to have it renovated as a belated wedding present, they jumped at the chance. That way, Meg was just a few blocks away and they had a place all to themselves…and what a place it was!

And while Christine and Erik missed having Amir on site, his often amusing or irritating presence noticeably absent, it did afford them with a nice guest house for company. They had even discussed offering the place to Charles, should he and Susan wish to take that big step and make things official one day. But for now, it would serve as Hank and Cathy's bungalow while they waited for the baby to arrive.

"So, Christine, has our grandson been taking good care of you?" Hank asked, giving her the once over with a critical eye.

"He has," she assured them, knowing that there could be no husband more attentive than he on the whole planet. "He's been watching me like a hawk, and anything I need is instantly provided."

"Are you sure?" Cathy questioned in a skeptical voice. She then walked over and placed her hand on Christine's lower back. "Are you by any chance feeling pain right here?" She pressed lightly, and received a hiss of discomfort for her efforts. "I see. And what about here?" This time she rubbed the lower part of her belly, also receiving a slight wince from her daughter-in-law. "Well, that does it. You, my dear, are in the early stages of labor!"

"SHE'S WHAT?" Erik shouted, instantly at her side. "Are you sure?"

"Erik…take it from a woman who knows," Cathy huffed. "This girl needs to get to the hospital!"

"No, it's not time yet," Christine protested. "I still have nearly a week to go." However, another one of those pains hit her just then, this time much stronger, causing her to grab her stomach and lean forward with a moan. "Oh! That hurts like the dickens!"

"There, see!" Cathy stated, taking hold of Christine's shoulders in order to steady her.

"How long has this been going on?" Erik demanded, instantly going into panic mode as he scooped her up onto his arms, no longer trusting her to remain on her own two feet.

"Well…since this morning I guess," she answered sheepishly. "I just thought it was gas or cramps…I never thought it might be labor."

"AND YOU DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING?" Erik bellowed, unable to handle his wife in any sort of discomfort.

"Shouting is not going to change things, Erik," Hank scolded. "Best thing to do now is just get her to the hospital and let nature take its course."

"Nature be damned!" Christine moaned, as another little spasm had her cringing in pain. "I want drugs!"

Stifling a little laugh, Hank quickly headed for the door, holding it open so that everyone could exit onto the porch.

Gerald had just come out of the guest house, after dropping off the Simmon's luggage, when Erik yelled to him.

"BRING THE LIMO AROUND, CHRISTINE'S IN LABOR!" His words caused Gerald to leap into action, rounding the car and pulling it up front in seconds. Harold was down the steps in no time and had the back door open in a flash, allowing Erik to ease Christine inside. Charles had just climbed into the passenger seat up front when Amir's car pulled into the circular driveway, unnoticed by all until he got out and gave a shout.

"Hey, what's going on?" he called. "I thought you said we were eating here, not going out."

"Christine is in labor!" Erik told him, as Cathy scooted in next to Christine, offering her a hand to squeeze through the pain.

"SHE'S WHAT?" Amir gasped, his face draining of all color. At that Antoinette and Meg scrambled out of the car as well, eyes full of shock.

"I'm coming with you!" Meg announced, sprinting over and opening the other side of the limo and climbing in, wanting to be with her friend.

"We're going to the hospital," Erik continued, still feeling as if he were going to pass out. "Could you two grab Christine's bag from upstairs and bring it along, we didn't have time to get it."

"We're on it, just get going!" Amir nodded.

"Oh, and tell Mrs. Murphy that dinner is canceled!" came Christine's voice from inside the limo, followed by a low moan of pain. "Erik! Hurry!"

Bounding into action, Erik and Hank climbed inside the car and Gerald had his foot to the floor in seconds, taking off down the driveway at a high rate of speed.

"Well…this will be exciting," Amir said in a winded voice, the two of them still in a bit of shock over the sudden news.

"You can say that again," Antoinette agreed, the two of them hurrying inside to do as they were told.

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The car ride to the hospital felt like it took hours, but when they arrived they were assured that Dr. Brooks had been notified and was on the way. In the meantime, Christine was taken into one of the maternity rooms, where she slipped into a hospital gown with yellow ducks on it, and was made as comfortable as possible.

"When can I get an epidural for this pain?" she asked, as yet another small cramp gripped her stomach.

"As soon as your doctor says you can," the nurse assured her. "In the meantime, just breathe. In through your nose, and out through your mouth. I know it sounds silly, but it really does help."

"I'm sure it does…but I still prefer drugs," Christine chuckled, still doing as the nurse had directed.

Meanwhile, Erik too had been taken to a room, instructed to wash up and put on a pair of blue sterile scrubs, a hat and mask. Only then was he allowed to enter Christine's room, the nervous mother happy to see him.

"Is that my husband under all that?" she laughed, reaching out to take his hand.

"It is," he assured her. "And if this is what I must endure to be in here with you, so be it. It is not as if I have never worn a mask before."

"This is really it, isn't it?" Christine asked, her voice full of excitement and worry. "We're going to have a baby."

"Yes we are," Erik agreed, leaning in to kiss her on the forehead, even through his blue surgical mask. "And I will be here with you every moment."

"Where's my father…and the others?" she asked, having lost track of everyone once she had left the limousine.

"In the waiting room, just outside," Erik told her. "They are all staying until they can meet this little bundle of joy. Don't worry."

"All right…as long as they're still here," she nodded, feeling comforted by this knowledge. "But the most important person I want beside me is you. Don't leave…please, Erik."

"I am not going anywhere," he stated firmly. "I will not leave your side for a moment, I swear."

"Then I hope this baby comes soon, because…what if you have to use the bathroom?" she teased, doing her best to keep the mood light.

"Then I will hold it," he chuckled. "For you…anything is possible."

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Outside in the waiting area, Amir and Antoinette had just arrived, carrying Christine's little suitcase and asking how things were going.

"It will be a while before we hear anything," Cathy told them. "Babies can't be rushed."

"Oh, I know that all too well," Antoinette laughed, giving Meg a little wink. "That one over there took thirteen hours."

"Hey, it's not my fault," Meg huffed. "I'm just the kind who likes to take her time and make an entrance."

"Well that you did," Antoinette assured her, sitting down beside her daughter and giving her a big hug. "And I love you all the more for it."

A minute later, another familiar face came through the door, looking around until he spotted the group in the waiting room.

"Raoul," Meg cried, leaping to her feet and crossing the room to give him a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, when you texted that Christine was in labor, I thought I would come down and sit with you," he explained, looking around the room anxiously. "That is…if it's all right with everyone else. I don't want to intrude."

Amir and Charles gave each other thoughtful looks, those two being the only ones who truly had a reason to dislike the lad, but in the end deciding if they could stand to have the boy around, and nodded their agreement. This pleased both Meg and Antoinette, though left Hank and Cathy a bit confused. Gerald really had no opinion either way.

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And so they waited, each of them taking turns pacing back and forth, or fetching coffee, doing their best to stay awake as the hours dragged on. It was nearly midnight when the door to the delivery room burst open and there stood Erik, still dressed in his blue scrubs.

"THE BABY'S HERE!" he shouted, causing everyone to turn to stare at the overjoyed man. "I…I am a father!" And then Erik began to sway, apparently overcome by the whole ordeal.

Amir and Gerald were beside him in seconds, steadying their friend as they guided him to a seat, instructing him to lean forward and breathe deeply.

"Is Christine all right?" Charles asked, as soon as it appeared that his son-in-law was going to remain conscious.

"Yes…she is perfectly fine," Erik told them all, still working on his breathing. "She is fine…the baby is fine…I, on the other hand…am not fine."

"You will be, son," Hank laughed, handing him a little paper cup of water and encouraging him to drink it. "Give it a few minutes and you'll be good as new."

"So…what is it?" Meg asked eagerly. "What did she have?"

"Yes, what did she have?" Cathy also begged to know. "Do we have a great-grandson or a great-granddaughter?"

At this, Erik sat up, still a bit pale, but the smile on his face shone bright.

"I have a daughter!" he announced, looking as proud as any father could be. "A six pound, eight ounce, beautiful baby girl!"

There was a round of cheers and hearty congratulations, followed by the question of when they can see her and Christine.

"I…I do not know," Erik admitted. "As soon as they weighed her, and I got to hold her for a moment, I ran out to tell you all." He then stood up, his face stricken. "I should get back in there!"

"Yes! Go!" Amir instructed. "Don't miss out on the first moments with your new daughter. Just come back out when it's safe for us to go in."

"I will," Erik nodded, racing back inside, leaving everyone out there laughing at his fatherly antics.

"Well…I do have to say, he's reacting much better than you did, Hank," Cathy chuckled. When everyone looked at her questioningly, she explained. "The moment he found out he was a father…he fainted dead away. Knocked his head on the floor and was out cold for two hours. By the time he woke up, he's already missed our daughter's first feeding."

"And Cathy's never let me forget it either," Hank laughed, slapping his hand on his knee.

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Back inside the delivery room, Erik now sat next to Christine on the bed, staring down at the exquisite little angle cradled in her arms.

"Oh, Erik…she's beautiful," Christine whispered, tears in her eyes as she smiled at their sleeping daughter. "Absolutely perfect in every way."

"Of course she is…you are her mother, after all," he stated, pride filling ever word. "But I see from that little tuft of hair, that she takes after me in some respect."

"I'm willing to bet she will be more like you than you even realize," Christine chuckled. "After all, she apparently inherited your lack of patience, coming almost six days early." And as if on cue, her face scrunched up and her tiny hands began to flail, as she let out a rather loud squawk. "Hmmm, it would appear she inherited your temper as well."

"What does she want?" Erik questioned, instantly alarmed that his child was in need.

"Perhaps a midnight snack?" Christine suggested, maneuvering the infant around so that she might be able to latch on. It was a bit awkward, with neither one knowing exactly how it would go, but eventually, the baby figured it out and was nursing contently, as Christine breathed a sigh of relief. "There…that wasn't so bad, was it?" she cooed to her daughter, stroking her velvet soft hair.

Erik just sat there, completely amazed at the miracle before him. He had a daughter, a small little life that depended on him to teach and protect her. The birthing had nearly done him in, completely in awe at all that Christine had endured over the past several hours. He had stayed strong though…for her, even when he had felt the room spinning, or that she was going to crush every bone in his hand. But together they made it through, bringing a wonderful little angel into this world.

"She…she needs a name," Erik announced, unable to take his eyes off of her.

"Well, you were the one who kept putting off deciding on one," she laughed, recalling that no matter what they came up with, he never seemed to settle on one.

"Nothing sounded right," he insisted. "But now that I see her…I know that there is no name out there as beautiful as her."

"Well, we can't keep calling her Jr., you know," she informed him in no uncertain terms. "So we have to settle on something."

"She is far too perfect…like a symphony played in the perfect key," Erik went on, his love of music being the only way he could aptly describe her.

"Well…do you remember that first little onesie you got for her?" Christine asked, looking up at him.

"The one that says ' _I'm the music of Mommy and Daddy's heart'_? Yes, I remember," he responded.

"If she's the music we made, why don't we name her Melody?" she suggested. "And it's much better than calling her our Opus."

This had Erik laughing, imagining calling his dainty little girl such an odd name.

"Yes, that would be strange," he agreed. "Yet, Melody…that _is_ perfect. Our sweet little lullaby."

"Yes, Erik…all ours," and as she leaned in and kissed their daughter's forehead, she opened her eyes and stared up at them for the first time, happy and content in knowing she was loved.

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A bit later, after everyone had washed up, the rest of the gang was invited in, even Raoul, though he respectfully kept to the back of the group. Everyone was completely taken with the beautiful new baby that Erik was only too happy to show off, being the proud father he was.

"She's perfect!" Cathy stated, wiping at her eyes with joy. "Absolutely perfect."

"That's exactly what I said," Christine laughed, loving the way her husband looked cradling their daughter in his strong arms.

"Well, the mother is always right, or so I'm told," Hank laughed.

"So, what did you two decide to name her?" Charles questioned, eager to know.

"Yes, last time I checked, you two had not settled on anything, for a boy or a girl," Amir commented. "Come up with anything now, or are we going to have to call her Baby Girl Thorn until she's thirty?"

"No, we have chosen a name," Erik informed him, giving him a withering glare.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense," Charles urged.

Erik turned and looked at Christine, and upon seeing her give him a nod of agreement, he looked at all the eager faces and declared.

"Our daughter's name is Melody Virginia Grace Thorn, the music of our heart," he stated.

The news caused different reactions all around. While most responded with the appropriate ooos and awws, Charles, Hank and Cathy were doing their best to hold back tears.

"You…you gave her your mother's middle name?" Charles stated, reaching out to take Christine's outstretched hand, giving it a squeeze.

"Of course," she smiled, and then looked over at Hank and Cathy next. "And Grace for Erik's mother. We thought it only fitting, since without them…this precious little gem wouldn't be here."

"We are very touched by the gesture," Cathy was able to get out, her voice catching in her throat. "It means a lot to us."

"Would you like to hold your granddaughter, Papa?" Christine asked, looking up at Erik, checking to see if he was willing to part with her for even a moment.

"Oh, let me sit down first," he insisted, heading for a nearby chair. "Not only am I still a bit wobbly, but now my hands are shaking from delight, and I don't want to risk dropping her!" Yet the moment he was settled, out came his arms, eager to hold little Melody.

Almost reluctantly, Erik did transfer his infant daughter over to Charles, his feelings of protection over her nearly through the roof.

"Difficult, isn't it, Erik?" Charles laughed, giving the new father a knowing wink. "I told you that the moment you hold them, you know that nothing else is more important in the entire world."

"Truer words were never spoken," Hank nodded.

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Over the next half an hour, little Melody made the rounds, allowing herself to be held by everyone, sleeping soundly through each transfer of arms. Even Raoul got a turn, though he looked genuinely terrified by the experience…and whether it was because he was afraid of babies in general, or Erik's warning glare, no one could tell.

Before long, they all bid their farewells and filed out, eager to get some much needed sleep. Gerald took Charles, Hank, and Cathy back to the house, while Amir and Antoinette headed for the thirteenth floor of Phantom Industries, with Raoul promising to escort Meg back to her apartment. This left Erik and Christine alone at last, able to give their new daughter their full and undivided attention.

"She is very quiet for a newborn," Erik commented, sitting near the head of the bed and allowing Christine to lean against him.

"Well, don't get used to that," she laughed. "According to the book, this is what is called the first day's reprieve…it will all change soon enough."

"I do not care," Erik assured his wife. "Our daughter can be as loud as she wants, and I will love her regardless."

"I'll remind you of that when she screams at three in the morning wanting her diaper changed," Christine promised. "And I will send you to tend to her."

"And I will do so with pleasure," he smiled. "There is nothing I will not do for her…nothing." Erik then leaned down and kissed Christine on the top of the head. "And nothing I will not do for you as well. For by bestowing upon me your love, and now our amazing daughter, you have given me the best gifts in all the world, my angel, and I will never be able to properly repay you for them."

"Well…I happen to recall a very wise man once saying that was the beauty of gifts," she told him with a wide grin, using his own words against him. "That when they are given from the heart, they never need to be repaid. You're just supposed to say thank you."

"Then thank you, Christine. Thank you from the bottom of my heart," Erik whispered, still amazed at how fortunate he was to have found one as perfect as Christine.

"You are more than welcome, Maestro." And as his lips met hers, she meant every word.

* * *

 **WEll, there you have it...I would say that is the end, but we have one more LONG epilogue chapter to go...which is over 10 thousand words and 18 pages!**

 **So, how did you like Charles and Erik's conversation...and how her dad got his retaliation punch in at last. I think they bonded more over that than anything. ha ha.**

 **Wasn't Erik kind to give Amir and Antoinette his thirteenth floor apartment at Phantom Industries?**

 **And looks like Hank and Cathy arrived just in time to meet the baby.**

 **Raise your hand if you knew it was going to be a girl!**

 **How did you like her name?**

 **Erik almost fainted, but he held it together! Such a brave boy.**

 **I think they are both very, very happy!**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest:** I wish I knew who you are...you asked for a snippet, but you signed in as a guest, and never told me who you were. So I had NO idea who to send it to! Identify yourself, this is your last chance to use a snippet!

 **GuestRP:** Really, wow...not even more excited than THIS chapter? Or the next one? ha ha. I made you cry? Yippeeee! you guessed the private jet before I said it huh? What was my Sunset Boulevard reference? It was not on purpose! Tell me. Amir and Erik like teasing each other to no end. His grandparents probably have no idea who THE Erik Thorn is...but they will learn. And yes, he inherited their work ethic and stamina from them...good genes too, I'm sure. Hold that thought about Erik in the wheat filed. ha ha. Also, don't worry...honeymoon is coming. Hank and Cathy sure got Amir thinking, right? Yes, Erik CAN joke...now...Christine has helped him come out of his shell. ha ha. I don't think Meg will be calling him Uncle Erik though. ha ha. OH man, I can so see Erik doing all those things you described...Erik on a John Deer tractor. ha ha. So adorable! Love it. Erik never DID learn to process things like a normal man...but we love him anyway. Yes, Kimberly wanted Erik, loved Erik, and would have done anything for him. She just never got the chance. I'm sure his genius came from his father...whoever that was...but we will never know. Sorry. Thanks.

 **Cayla:** Yep, they got hitched! About time, right? No...that was not a Fiddler on the Roof reference...you are the second person to ask that. ha ha. Just a coincidence I guess. Erik only KIND OF admitted they were brothers, in an off-handed way. But we know he meant it. I love Gerald, and I had to get him into the 'family' as well as let Cathy slip him a little bit of money. ha ha. Thanks for wanting it to keep going, but it looks like 70 chapters is all I have in me. Sorry. But thanks.

 **Katie B:** You are a meanie! ha ha Don't take out your frustrations with me on poor Erik and Christine. Fine...I will tell you...Erik and Christine have a daughter, a cute adorable daughter. There, satisfied? *wink, wink, giggle* Thanks for the passionate review. ha ha.

 **Kristin:** Glad you liked it. Healing is important, both physical, mental...and emotional. Charles was around, he just didn't get that many lines. ha ha. He will be around for a good long time now though. Yep, Amir and Annie finally got married! Thanks!

 **GuestWraithSnake:** OH yes, total implosion if Erik had to work for Raoul. ha ha. ha ha, yes, most grandparents do live in farm country, right? As you saw...no double wedding, sorry. Yep, Meg has a new daddy, a new uncle and her best friend is her aunt. ha ha. Erik is a marvelous grandson! I do hope you like how I end things, and that you feel I did tie up all my loose ends. Thanks.


	70. Chapter 70

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 **Oh...wow...this is it! The last chapter!**

 **At the end, please drop one last review to say farewell, I would greatly appreciate it.**

 **Oh, and remember ~XXX~ means it's a flashback.**

 **.**

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 **Chapter 70**

 **Epilogue**

 **~X~**

* * *

Christine sat in front of the vanity in her private suite at the Standish Hotel, and looked at herself in the mirror, truly surprised at just how nervous she actually felt. She had been married to Erik for three full years now, this being the very day of their third anniversary, but still, the idea of walking down the aisle once again had left her a jangle of nerves.

It had originally been Erik's idea to renew their vows, something that Christine suspected had Raffie and Maria's wedding had prompted, the couple having attended their lavish affair several years back. During the ceremony, Erik had not been paying attention to the vows, but instead looking around, as if cataloging each and every detail, filing it away for future reference. Christine had been left wondering if that had been the first wedding Erik had ever attended…other than his own.

Her suspicions were confirmed when, after consulting with her father on the subject, Erik announced that as soon as they were able to take an official honeymoon, he would be giving her the wedding he should have in the first place. Charles had been overjoyed by the idea, having been unable to walk Christine down the aisle the first time, or speak his words of consent as he gave his little girl away. Granted, he had not been in any sort of mood to do either of those things the first time, wishing instead to strangle Erik on the spot, but this time he felt much different. Now he was only too happy to place his daughter's hand in Erik's and give them his blessing.

Yet after Melody had been born, Christine and Erik had no desire to leave their child for _any_ length of time in order to take a belated honeymoon. And by the end of their second year of marriage, when their daughter was possibly old enough to be without them for a bit, and Christine had finished her schooling at Juilliard, Erik had surprised Christine with the purchase of a theater in the heart of NY! Whereupon, he immediately began auditions for his production of Don Juan, the opera he had written for Christine.

Thus, most of their second year had been dedicated to performing to a sold-out theater, five times a week! Christine had been bowled over by the recognition and adulation she received, and Meg, who of course took on the role of lead ballerina, was making a name for herself among her peers. And for the next eight months, this was the norm, with Erik juggling his duties between Phantom Industries, being a manager, a producer, and the director of the Opus Theater. Christine had just rolled her eyes at him when he had decided to name it that, the two of them having a good laugh over the inside joke.

Yet several months ago, Christine had expressed her wishes to step down from her role as diva, and concentrate on just being a wife and mother again, which Erik fully understood and supported. They had thoroughly enjoyed working together on the opera, and even getting to perform on stage together, when the singer they hired to play the part of Don Juan fell sick at the last minute.

Everyone had been in a tizzy, fearing they would have to cancel that performance, seeing as there was not an understudy for the role. Christine had always wondered about that, but understood perfectly when Erik calmly informed everyone that he would be stepping in and performing the part of Don Juan himself. Thus, as the curtain rose, Christine was beside herself with joy, knowing that tonight the audience was in for a very rare and special treat. In her mind, it had been the best performance of the season, and from the numerous standing ovations and calls for encores, even Erik couldn't disagree with her.

Still, after over six months of performing, even Erik felt the time had come to bow out gracefully. For Melody was growing up so quickly, and neither one wanted to miss a moment of her formative years. Thus, after a number of interviews and auditions, Erik hired a new manager and director, while Christine's role was filled by none other than Stacy Martinez. Everyone had a good laugh when the young singer swore she wouldn't even look at a plate of sushi before a performance.

To celebrate the end of a successful run, Erik had flown the three of them to Kentucky two months ago, to visit Hank and Cathy on their little farm at last. Christine had been delighted by the homey feel of the place, thoroughly enjoying the quiet, slow pace very much, while Melody went wild over the animals. She would chase the chickens around on her chubby little legs, and sit for hours holding the kittens the barn cat recently had. Erik, however, appeared nervous and pensive for the first several days he was there. When Christine questioned him on it late one night, he had at last confessed his concerns.

~XXX~

"I…I can't help but think that _this_ could have been my life," he told her, the two of them snuggled under a homemade quilt in the upper bedroom of the old house. Melody was sleeping in a nearby crib, the very one that Erik's mother had used when she was a child. "I could have easily been raised here in Kentucky, as Erik Simmons, farmer and…and…" Here he stopped, unsure as to what he might have become.

"Farmer, husband, and amazing father," Christine finished for him. "And we wouldn't have loved you any less."

"Yet, had I been raised here, I might never have _met_ you," he pointed out. "You were raised in New York…leaving no opportunity for our paths to have ever crossed. And _that_ , my darling Christine, would have been a tragedy."

"I think so as well," she nodded. "However…who's to say we wouldn't have met? What if you came to New York for a farmer's convention or something? And as you were passing Raffie's place, you heard me singing and came in to have a bite…and then we fell in love. Or, maybe I would have become a famous singer, and went on tour, performing nearby and you came to see the show? We were meant to be together Erik…nothing could have stopped us from finding each other."

"You do have a way of always turning rain-clouds into rainbows," Erik chuckled.

"Well, that's better than me imagining you having fallen for a pretty little milk maid who lived down the road," she huffed. "I do happen to recall that my farm-girl outfit turned you on, Mr. Thorn! Perhaps that was some of your Simmon's blood coming through."

"Perhaps, but I assure you, it was the woman _in_ the clothing that caught my eye…not the outfit itself," he informed her, leaning in to nuzzle her neck.

"Really?" she asked, looking at him hopefully.

"Really," he nodded. "However…that is not to say I do not enjoy you seeing you in such skimpy attire now and then. Hence the reason I packed the items you just mentioned in my suitcase."

"You did not!" Christine gasped, pulling back in shock

"I assure you, I did," Erik insisted, a wicked grin spreading over his face. "And I fully intend on putting them to good use."

"Do you now?" she questioned, her eyes instantly filling with desire.

"Most definitely," was his reply, rolling her over on her back as he began to lavish her with kisses.

.

.

The next morning, Christine awoke alone, noticing that even little Melody was no longer in her crib. Yet what she did see was a very short pair of cut-offs and a red and white checkered shirt lying on the chair next to the bed, obviously set out for a specific reason.

"Erik…you dirty dog," she giggled, leaping out of bed as she grabbed her day's attire.

Christine cautiously made her way downstairs, listening carefully for any sounds coming from the kitchen. When nothing but silence greeted her, she stepping inside, looking around. There was a little note on the table, and picking it up, she recognized Erik's writing.

 _My darling farm angel,_

 _Hank and Cathy took Melody to the neighbors so she could see some baby bunnies, they won't be back for hours. In the oven you will find some breakfast, hopefully you have not slept too late and it is still warm. Have a bite to eat and then meet me out behind the barn. I have a surprise for you._

 _All my love,_

 _Erik_

"Well, that's odd," Christine muttered, yet shrugging her shoulders as she did as she was told, extricating the warm biscuit and sausage patty from the oven, adding a slice of cheese from the refrigerator and making herself a quick breakfast sandwich. Cathy was indeed an excellent cook and the flaky biscuit and delicious sausage nearly melting in her mouth. The only thing that would have made it better, she thought to herself…was bacon!

Christine had managed to finish most of it by the time she came around the side of the barn, having called out several times, asking Erik where he was. Yet when she spotted him, she stopped dead in her tracks, the last few bites of her breakfast falling to the ground, completely forgotten.

" _Oh…my!_ " she gasped, her eyes feasting on the sight before her. For there, wearing only a pair of skin tight jeans, work boots and his mask, was her sexy as hell husband cutting down some of the grass growing around the edge of the newly planted corn field, with of all things…a scythe! He had a light sheen of sweat across his shoulders, a tiny trickle sliding down his back, and his muscular arms bulging in a way she had never witnessed before. Erik was truly magnificent!

He must have heard her coming, for he straightened up, placed the metal end of the scythe on the ground and rested his palms on the wooden handle, his head cocked to the side as he watched her.

"Hello, wife," he said, his voice deep and husky. "I know it is not a wheat field, but it was the best I could come up with. And I thought it only fair that if I asked you to play out one of _my_ fantasies, I should fulfill one of _yours_ in return." He then gestured to his lack of attire. "Was this not what you claimed was a…how did you put it…a _turn on_ for you, my little angel?"

Christine could not seem to find her voice, so she instead ran towards him, leaping into his arms. He let the tool drop to the ground as he grabbed her around the waist, lifting her up as she wrapped her legs around his hips, and her arms about his neck. Her hungry kisses said everything Erik had wanted to hear. Yet when she was at last able to speak, her words couldn't have been more enticing.

"If you don't take me into that barn and make love to me this very moment, Mr. Thorn, I might have to throw you down right here in plain sight and have my way with you!" she demanded, her desire clearly evident in her tone.

"Well, far be it from me to deny my wife her heart's desire," he smiled, claiming her lips once more, as he carried his sexy little farm girl towards the pile of soft hay in the big red barn.

To say that Erik and Christine enjoyed their three week stay on the farm, was a definite understatement!

~XXX~

And so, a month and a half later, here Christine sat, dressed in the very same gown she had chosen to be married in three years prior…and thankfully, it still fit! Christine was especially delighted to know she would have her father there to lean on, having missed his strength beside her the first time she had walked down the aisle. But now that he was completely well, there would be nothing preventing him from fulfilling his fatherly duty.

Thinking back, Christine couldn't believe how far he had come, going from his near catatonic state to a vibrant and energetic man once again. One who played on the floor with his granddaughter, had recently begun giving private violin lessons at Juilliard, and even married Susan, his devoted nurse.

It had been a small ceremony, held in the back yard of their home on a beautiful spring day. Susan had invited a cousin and a few friends, as well as Jerome and Dr. Mills, but Charles opted to share this day with only a select few. Hank and Cathy had flown out for the wedding, having become very good friends with the father of their new granddaughter-in-law, and of course Amir, Antoinette, Meg, Raoul, Gerald, and Charlotte were there as well. Thankfully, little Melody had slept through the entire ceremony, allowing Christine and Erik to enjoy every moment, as she watched her father enter the next glorious phase of his life.

Charles and Susan were now deliriously happy, having moved into the guest house on the other side of the garage right after returning from Scotland, where they had chosen to take their honeymoon. Christine enjoyed having a new mother figure in her life, finding Susan to be a most amiable addition to their family. She had also never seen her father so happy either, for she had very few memories of how things had been when her own mother was still alive. Christine knew her papa would always love Virginia Daaé, but life goes on, and Charles had enough affection to share with all the women in his life…her, Melody, and now Susan. It made everyone happy.

"You look beautiful, Christine," Antoinette whispered in her ear, breaking her from her thoughts. "Even more than you did the first time you wore that dress."

"I'm really glad I kept it like it is, and didn't have it altered so I could wear it to dinner parties or something," Christine told her, recalling how the thought had once crossed her mind. "And thankfully, it still fits me too!"

"Well, I certainly can't say the same about the dress I wore three years ago," Antoinette laughed, reaching down and rubbing her bulging stomach.

"You look gorgeous, Antoinette," Susan was quick to assure the expectant mother. "And I'm certain that Amir tells you so on a daily basis."

"Well he better!" the dark haired woman declared. "After all, I blame _him_ for this little late-in-life surprise! We had no plans on even trying for a baby, and at my age, I didn't think it was possible! But I guess this little tyke proved us wrong."

"Nothing like a baby to set everyone on their ear," Christine laughed. "And you're in excellent health, not to mention tip-top shape, so you should have no worries. It's easy to see that pregnancy agrees with you. I swear that you are literally glowing, Antoinette. A blind man in a cardboard box could even see it."

"Well, it would be equally impossible to miss that spark of joy we all see in _your_ eyes too, Christine," the older woman told her. "That is what was lacking the last time you said your vows…the look of love."

"That may be true, but not anymore. Now I can't wait to become Erik's wife…again! Still, for some reason I'm as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs," she laughed, having picked up many of Cathy's amusing idioms.

"Well, I'm pretty sure you're not worried about the wedding night," Meg teased, coming over to join them, holding a lovely bouquet of roses in her hands. "After all, you've already had _one_ baby with Erik, and now there's another on the way!"

"Shhhh, not so loud," Christine cautioned with an anxious giggle. "That man's got ears like a…a…oh, I don't know, but whatever animal can hear really well. The last thing I want is for Erik to find out about our new little Jr. here, turn all overprotective on me, and cancel our honeymoon trip!" She covered her still flat stomach with her hand, and smiled knowingly, having no doubt whatsoever that their little strawberry had been conceived in the hayloft of Hank and Cathy's barn.

"Ahhhh, Paris in the spring," Antoinette sighed. "How romantic."

"But I thought you once said that Erik despised France," Susan spoke up having busied herself with laying out Christine's jewelry and shoes. "That he never wanted to go back there, because of his past?"

"Well, ever since he met Hank and Cathy, and learned the truth about his mother, Erik has actually been _wanting_ to go back," she shrugged. "Call it nostalgia…or some form of closure, but it's where _he_ wanted to go, and who am I to pass up a chance to see the Eiffel tower and take a ride down the Seine?"

"Sounds heavenly to me," Meg agreed. "Maybe for our first anniversary Raoul will whisk me off to France, or England…or Ireland! Anyplace really, just as long as we're together, I don't care where we go."

Christine had to smile at the lovey-dovey look in her friend's eyes, knowing just how much she and Raoul adored each other. Thus it had been no big shock, when only a few weeks after her father and Susan had tied the knot, Meg announced that Raoul had asked her to marry him, flashing her diamond ring around as if she were the Green Lantern.

Raoul had indeed gone all out, planning his proposal for months before Meg officially graduated from Juilliard. For the big event, he took her to the roof of his high-rise apartment building, where he had arranged a candle lit dinner for two…surrounded by a veritable sea of red roses. There, under the stars, and down on one knee, Raoul had popped the question, the diamond ring he offered stating his love and intent quite eloquently. Of course, Meg had said yes.

It had been a grand affair, and with the Chaney's family money, no expense had been spared. Phil had been overjoyed for his little brother, offering his assistance gladly, as Meg and Antoinette took the lead in making all the arrangements. Raoul had simply smiled and nodded when asked his opinion, agreeing to anything that would win him his beloved's hand faster.

Amir, not to be left out, had arranged for a spectacular two week tropical honeymoon aboard a luxury cruise ship for his beloved step-daughter. Wanting Meg to know just how grateful he was to be part of her family…and her mother's life.

"Yes, but it would appear you have fallen into the same trap as Erik and I," Christine chuckled. "Plenty of love and reasons to celebrate…but never enough time!"

"Arrggg, tell me about it. And I just signed a two-year contract with the New York City Ballet, so at this rate I might not get to go on another trip until I'm old and grey!" Meg said with a roll of her eyes.

"Well, just as long as you two are around when your baby brother is born," Antoinette insisted. "I'm no spring chicken any more, and I'm going to need extra help in taking care of this little joy."

"Has Amir at least promised to change a few diapers yet?" Christine asked, recalling how he had staunchly refused to even do _one_ for them with Melody. Even walking out of the room and driving home once when Erik had insisted that he learn."

"If he ever wants to share a bed with me again, he darn well better!" Antoinette insisted. "I believe in equal opportunity for everyone…and that includes husbands when it comes to diaper duty!"

This had all the women laughing, but their mirth was cut short when a voice came from the doorway.

"What's all the ruckus in here?" Cathy asked with a wide smile. She stepped inside, looking lovely in her pink floral dress, with little Melody toddling along beside her, all decked out in frills and white satin.

"Mama, ook!" the adorable two-year-old cried, pointing to her two dark curly pigtails, surrounded by a delicate floral wreath. "P'ity! P'ity fowers!"

"Oh, yes, Melody," Christine smiled getting up from her seat as she gazed at her precious daughter. "Those _are_ pretty flowers. Did Nanna help you with them?"

"Nanna halpt," Melody nodded, smiling up at her great-grandmother proudly. She then began to hop up and down excitedly. "Now go see Papa?"

"Yes, darling, very soon," Cathy nodded, before turning her attention back to Christine. "And that's what I've come to tell you, that everything's set. I even sent Gerald to inform the boys," she stated. "And if you don't get a move on, your groom might think you got cold feet and took off like Julia Roberts in Runaway Bride!" When the other ladies looked at her questioningly, she smiled. "That's right…I watch movies, I'm one hip grannie, you know. Now hurry up!"

"You heard the woman," Susan laughed. "Let's get this _pretty woman_ to her groom!"

.

.

In another room just down the hall, Erik was fixing his tie…for the tenth time. Why did these confounded things always give him trouble when they needed to be perfect?

"Do you need a little help there, son?" Hank laughed, stepping forward and taking over for his frustrated grandson. "You have every right to be nervous."

"I am not nervous," he objected. "I am simply… _anxious_. I wish for things to be perfect. Christine deserves nothing less."

"And she got that…in you," his grandfather assured him. "There, now you look handsome."

At any other time, and if it were any other person, Erik might have taken offense to that offhanded remark, knowing very well that he was anything but. However, he knew that Hank had meant nothing untoward by it…in fact, Erik knew his grandfather had no objections to his face at all. And not only because both he and Cathy had assured him many times that his deformity didn't matter to them…they had also seen it for themselves, and never flinched once.

It had not been by Erik's choice, but by accident…one he found he did not regret.

~XXX~

Hank and Cathy had stayed for two weeks after Melody was born, helping out where they could, as well as enjoying every moment with their great-granddaughter. On the morning they would be heading back to Kentucky, Erik had been pulled from his sleep, not by the rising sun, but by the sound of his daughter's cries. Slipping from the bed and pulling on his robe, he discovered that she was only wet, and in need of a fresh diaper. Being an expert at the duty by now, he took care of it himself and then headed down stairs with Melody in his arms, wishing to watch the sun rise with his daughter.

He was sitting in the sun room, resting her on his thighs as he cradled her between his forearms, her head securely nestled in his palms. She was such a happy baby, always smiling or cooing, and Erik couldn't get enough of her. In fact he would never get enough of her, no matter how long he lived. Melody was his daughter… _his daughter_! And he could feel a fierce surge of protection welling up in him as he imagined some offensive young man approaching him one day and asking for her hand. No man would ever be good enough for his baby! Not one!

He suddenly realized just how much Charles must have truly hated him for stealing away his daughter, and in a way that even he knew had been less than honorable. It pained him deeply now to think of how his father-in-law must have felt, sitting there, trapped in his own body and unable to protect Christine from the fate he imagined was worse than death. Erik would make a point to apologize once again for the pain he had caused that poor man.

"Well, you, my darling one, will not be leaving my side for a good long time, and then only if it be your desire to do so," Erik told the infant in his arms. "For your father loves you more than life itself…and he would do anything to make sure that you and your mother never know a moment of sorrow or fear. You will grow up happy and safe, and if any boy dares break your heart at the prom…well, I pray that God will have mercy on him, for I will not!" When Melody just stared up at him with her adorable grin, completely oblivious to what he was saying, Erik chuckled. "One day you will understand the extent of my love for you, my little lullaby. But for now, just know you are daddy's little girl."

Melody always loved it when he sang to her, and that morning was no exception, her eyes wide and her fists pumping excitedly as he began to softly sing one of the many songs he had written just for her.

After marrying Christine, Erik had not imagined he could be any happier, but he had been proven wrong in the most spectacular way. Sharing a child with his beloved wife, had more than doubled his joy. He had even taken time off from work, handing the responsibility over to Amir once again, not wishing to be away from Christine and Melody, even for a second. He had counted each of his daughter's fingers and all of her tiny toes a million times, simply amazed at how intricately perfect she was. Her eyes of course had not settled on their permanent color, and wouldn't for some time, but in his heart, Erik felt that one day he would see his own amber shade staring back at him when he looked at his little girl.

"You are daddy's little angel, sweet Melody," he whispered to her when his song was finished. "Well… _one_ of his angels."

Erik had no idea that he had acquired an audience until he heard the light sound of clapping coming from the doorway.

"That was beautiful, Erik," Cathy whispered, hating to disturb their precious father daughter time. "Melody is quite fortunate to have such a doting father."

"It is not difficult," he grinned. "She is easy to love, and I can't help wanting to be with her all the time."

"Cherish this time, Erik," Hank told him, coming over to take a seat next to him on the sofa, looking down at Melody and making funny faces that caused her to smile and coo.

"For all too quickly, she will grow up, and you will wish you had it back," Cathy agreed, taking her place on the other side of him.

"I miss it already…and I still have it," Erik nodded, completely besotted by his child. He then turned and looked up at Hank, a puzzled expression on his face. "What are you two doing up so early?"

"We wanted to come over and make breakfast for everyone one last time before we leave," he explained. "Well…Cathy plans on making the breakfast, I'm just here to help eat it."

"That is very kind of you," he smiled. "Just don't forget to make some bacon with whatever you're having. My little wife is a carnivore."

"Oh, yes, she told us about your pet name for her," Cathy laughed. "When I asked her why her stuffed bear smelled like bacon. And don't worry, I will pull out all the stops, this will be a breakfast to remember."

Just then Melody began to fuss, apparently all the talk of food had made her hungry…and unfortunately not for bacon.

"I think I best get this little miss up to her mother, before she really takes to crying," Erik told them, gently rising to his feet. "We will be down as soon as possible to offer a hand."

"We'd love that," Hank nodded, the two of them also getting up. "But take your time, no need to hurry on our account."

Erik nodded and headed for the door, but was stopped by Cathy's hand on his arm.

"Erik, dear," his grandmother said, her eyes misty with tears. "Never forget that we love you, very, very much." Then raising up on her toes, she kissed him on the cheek, giving him the most loving smile.

"And we always will," Hank added, laying his hand affectionately on his shoulder. "Now, get that little girl up to Christine, and we'll see you when you come down."

Erik nodded, a bit perplexed by their out of the blue gestures, but the fussy baby in his arms didn't allow him to linger any longer, and up he went. When he opened the door, Christine was already awake, sitting up in bed as she yawned and stretched her arms over her head.

"There you are," she smiled. "I figured you were off with another girl, two-timing me again, I see."

"You caught me," Erik laughed, handing Melody over to her mother's eager arms. In no time at all, their daughter was enjoying her breakfast, while her parents watched in amazement. They could simply stare at her for hours, and never get bored at all.

"What were you two up to?" she asked after a few minutes of silence.

"I didn't wish to wake you until it was necessary," Erik explained, getting up and heading for his closet to choose his attire for the day. "So I took Melody downstairs and we sat in the sun room and watched the sunrise together."

"That sounds nice," she agreed.

"Then Hank and Cathy came over from the guest house, wanting to make breakfast for us one last time before leaving," he continued, exiting the closet with his clothes in hand.

"I will miss their fussing," Christine nodded. "Cathy does make wonderful eggs Benedict." Suddenly, she looked up at Erik with a mixture of confusion and surprise. "Wait…did you see them? Did Hank and Cathy actually speak to you?"

"Of course, they came in and joined Melody and I for a bit," he informed her, puzzled by her question. "Why do you ask?"

"Erik…you're not wearing your mask!" she pointed out, watching as his hand flew to his face in horror.

"I…I completely forgot to put it on when I left the room!" he said in a voice filled with shock and dismay. "They…they both sat there, looking at me the whole time, and…and never said a word."

"Of course, they didn't, Erik," Christine said, reaching out her hand to him, desperate to offer her support as he attempted to process this unprecedented idea. "They love you…they don't care what you look like any more than I do. Can't you see that now?"

"Cathy…she even kissed me…on my bare cheek!" Erik suddenly recalled, not once even noticing that it was not a mask her lips had touched, but his mangled flesh. How could he have not realized that? "And they said they loved me…even after seeing… _this_!"

"Oh, Erik," Christine gushed, tears of joy now coursing down her cheeks. "We all love you. And mask, or no mask, you deserve our affection and more."

"I…do not know what to do or say now," he admitted, sitting down on the bed in shock. "How do I react when I see them again?"

"Do nothing, act as if it was the most natural thing in the world," she advised. "We are one big family, and if we can't all just smile and pretend like nothing happened, then we don't deserve that title." Here she gave a wide smile, hoping that her little jest would calm Erik down. Thankfully it helped, and soon Erik managed to accept this new revelation well enough to go take a shower. Then he held Melody while Christine took a turn, the three of them eventually heading down together. And while Erik had half doubted that Christine's idea would work…it did amazingly well. No one said anything, no one acted uncomfortable, and they all had a lovely breakfast just as they had over the past several weeks. And just like that, everything was fine from then on, leading Erik to believe that they were indeed an official family at last.

~XXX~

Granted, over the past three years, they had often proved themselves to be a highly dysfunctional one, but a family nonetheless.

"Thank you, Hank," Erik smiled, looking at his perfectly straight tie in the mirror. "Now, perhaps you could assist Amir…he is hopeless with such things."

"I am not!" came the grumbling voice of the Persian on the other side of the room. "And I have it completely under control…because I've decided not to wear the blasted thing!" At this a silk tie went flying across the room, followed by an angry growl. "How am I expected to be a father and take care of our son when I can't even fix a necktie?"

"Here, Amir," Charles said in a fatherly tone. "Let me help you." He then picked it up and slipped it around his own neck, and expertly tied it in a perfect Windsor knot. When he was finished, he loosened it enough to get it over his head and handed it to Amir. "Just put it on and cinch it up, simple as pie."

"That's amazing!" Amir grinned, doing as he was told. "And if I take it off carefully, I can use it over and over again without having to retie it!"

"You are hopeless," Erik told his friend with a roll of his eyes. "Perhaps you will get lucky and your child will turn out to be a girl after all, regardless of what the doctors say. For I think you are far more suited to fix hair and have tea parties than you are to playing catch and teaching him to tie a necktie."

"HEY!" Amir balked. "I know how to play catch! And we're definitely having a son. I got ultrasound pictures to prove it."

"Now Erik, don't worry the poor man needlessly," Hank scolded him. "Every father has to learn the ropes on his own…no one can do it for them. But don't worry, Amir…there are plenty of us around to give you advice and a helping hand. Isn't that right, Erik?" Here his grandfather raised an eyebrow at him, leveling him with a stern glare.

"Yes…of course," Erik nodded, duly chastised for his snide remark. Amir had proven himself to be a very good babysitter over the years, doting on Melody like any good uncle should. The little girl simply adored the Persian, for he was never too busy to read to her, play dolls, or even have pretend tea parties whenever she asked. Sadly, the only thing he had always staunchly refused to do was change a single diaper, constantly handing her off when that task needed tending. "And to prove how helpful I am, Amir, while I am away on my honeymoon, you can come over any time you like and learn the art of diaper changing by helping out with Melody!"

"Oh, yes, that's a great idea!" Charles agreed. "Susan and I would enjoy a break from that particular duty…as would Hank and Cathy, I'm sure."

"Now wait one minute!" Amir balked. "I never agreed to that! And even though Antoinette threatened to make me sleep on the couch for the rest of my life if I failed to help out when our son is born…I refuse to start one day early on that horrid job! Besides, the plumbing is completely different on your kid verses mine. No sense in learning a technique I'll never need. Right?"

"You never know," Hank said with a shrug. "It could be twins, and your daughter was just hiding behind her brother in the ultrasound."

Now Amir looked ready to faint, causing Erik to wink at his grandfather, imagining that he got some of his mischievous ways from him. He had enjoyed every moment of teasing his Persian friend ever since Antoinette announced she was expecting. The poor man had been completely flustered by the news, since neither had ever expected such a thing to happen. Not only were they both over forty, but they had been extremely careful as well…or so they said.

However, when the initial shock had worn off, Amir did not calm down like Antoinette had hoped, but instead morphed into a near replica of Erik with how protective he became over his wife and her condition. Erik had, of course, made a point to remind Amir that Antoinette was not the first woman on the planet to give birth, nor would she be the last. To this the Persian had simply scowled, and told him to shut his mouth. Erik had laughed heartily over that. Yet, the day they had discovered they were having a son, Amir had become nearly impossible to live with, strutting around like a proud peacock, acting as if he were the first man in the world to father a male child.

"You know, one would think after the awesome bachelor party I threw for you last week, you would be much kinder to me," Amir huffed.

"Really…do you mean the party where you got drunk, embarrassed yourself, and the rest of us, and then proceeded to vomit on my new shoes?" Erik asked, recalling that night a bit differently than Amir apparently did.

"That's the one!" the Persian stated with pride, looking quite pleased with himself. "And you all loved every minute of it…don't deny it." He pointed his finger at all the men standing around.

"Well…I suppose until you up-chucked on Erik's shoes, it was rather funny watching you dance around like some lizard on a hot frying pan," Hank admitted.

"And then when we had to call Antoinette to come take you home because you were too wasted to drive," Charles continued. "The look on her face, and how she grabbed you by the earlobe…yes indeed. Good time."

"Not to mention the fact that you lost another hundred dollars to me by betting that you could balance a full shot glass on your forehead while you walked up the stairs," Erik smiled.

"Wait…why don't I remember any of _that_?" Amir barked, his eyebrows furrowing together in concern.

"The same reason I do not remember ever playing Guitar Hero like you claim I once did," Erik explained, a sly grin spreading over each man's face. "We made it all up."

"But…but you really _did_ play Guitar Hero!" Amir insisted.

"Just keep telling yourself that, crazy man," Erik said with a shake of his head.

Before any more could be said, Gerald came through the door, looking quite handsome dressed in a fine dark suit, and broke up the teasing conversation.

"I think most of the guests have arrived," he stated. "The place is packed and there isn't an empty seat in the room."

"Then I guess it's time," Hank grinned. "Are you ready, son?"

"Ready to remarry the woman of my dreams?" Erik asked. "Just try and stop me, Grandfather." Erik was still more comfortable calling Hank and Cathy by their first names, but every now and then, he would intersperse their familial titles, just to watch them smile proudly.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he laughed. "I don't think anything, short of a semi-truck, could lay you out."

"Well…there is _one_ thing that could," Erik chuckled, his hand going to rub his chin as he gave Charles a pointed look, pulling a snort from his father-in-law. They had never discussed their altercation at Leathwood, but every now and then, the memory would surface, causing them to share a smile and moment of private amusement.

"But even _I_ have no objections today," Charles assured the groom. "Today I will happily give my daughter away to you, Erik."

"And for that, I thank you," he said with a slight bow of his head. "Shall we go?"

.

.

Erik stood at the front of the large banquet room inside the luxurious Standish Hotel, the only place both big enough, and fancy enough, to please him. On one side of the room, near the front were several rows of chairs, all filled with musicians dressed in elegant black, holding their instrument of choice. They had come from the Met, courtesy of Charles, who had asked them to play at his daughter's wedding, just like he and Christine had always dreamed.

A thick white carpet adorned the aisle, with a plethora of chairs on either side, filled to capacity with more people than Erik thought he knew. He did recognize Phil and Rachel, with their children all sitting politely beside them, as well as Raoul, who had insisted on the end seat so he could get a good view of Meg. Over the past three years, Erik had come to tolerate the boy, finding him a bit less pesky as time went on. Erik had even been able to offer his congratulations without choking on his words at his and Meg's wedding. Everyone nearly died of shock.

He had also made sure that the entire place was decorated with lights, flowers, and more tulleing than he even knew existed. The same could be said for the other large room next door, where the reception was being held, having also been lavishly adorned to Erik's exact specifications. He and Charles had worked very hard to make this everything Christine deserved, though to him, their first wedding would always be the one that he considered the most special. For that was the day when Erik's life had truly begun.

"Not getting cold feet, are you?" Amir whispered, noticing how Erik's eyes were darting from one place to the next. "Because if you want to run, my car is parked out back, gassed up with the keys under the mat."

"I am not getting cold feet, and I do not wish to run!" Erik stated firmly. "I would never abandon my wife like that." He then gave Amir a bit of a smile. "I of course know that you are only joking, for not only would you be the first to stop me if I did attempt to bolt, you would also never seriously offer me the use of your car…ever!"

"So very true," Amir laughed. "You're just so easy to rile."

"Well, keep it up I will demote you from the position of my best man, and reassign you to guard duty, as I did at my first wedding," Erik threatened.

"No way, buster!" Amir chuckled. "I didn't get dressed up in this monkey suit just to patrol the perimeter. If that was the case, I would have worn my ninja outfit instead. It's much more comfortable." He reached up and tugged at his collar, wishing it wasn't so tight around his neck.

"I was certain that Antoinette would have made you throw that thing out long before now!" Erik said in a shocked tone.

"Are you kidding?" Amir scoffed. "That outfit really turns her on for some reason! Trust me, when I put it on, and slink around the apartment, she really…"

"NOT another word!" Erik hissed, holding up his hand authoritatively. "This is my wedding, show some decorum!"

"Just trying to make conversation, to take your mind off your nerves," Amir insisted.

"And I told you before…I am not nervous," he lied. For if pressed, Erik was starting to feel a bit uneasy. What if he stumbled over his vows? What if he forgot Christine's name? What if Amir lost the ring? "You do have the ring…right?"

"Of course, I do! Now look alive…I think they're going to start," he pointed out, gesturing to where Gerald had just entered through a side door, giving a nod to the musicians, before sitting down next to Charlotte. The loyal chauffer gave Erik and Amir the thumbs up, telling them that all was set. Antoinette, Susan, and Cathy had also taken their assigned seats, with Hank reaching out to gently squeeze his wife's hand.

And then the music began, prompting the doors at the far end of the room to open, revealing the most precious thing Erik could imagine. Little Melody standing there in her white dress, flowers in her hair and a wide toothy grin on her adorable face. In her hand she held a small basket of flower petals, the toddler having practiced for weeks on how to drop them along the way as she walked up the aisle.

For a moment the child appeared stunned, having all the people in the room turn and look at her, a cacophony of oos and awws filling the air. But then she caught sight of her father, standing at the end of the aisle and her smile returned and she began to head towards him, forgetting all about dropping the petals. No one seemed to care, least of all Erik, and his heart swelled with utter joy as he watched her toddling towards him, never once having shown any fear over his uncovered face or the fact that he wore a mask. To her, he was simply Papa…and he loved it.

However, at about halfway up the aisle, Melody appeared to remember that she was supposed to scatter the contents of her basket, and she skidded to a stop, reaching in with her chubby hand and grabbing a fistful, throwing them down on the runner with childish gusto. She gave a giggle of delight and threw another handful down on the other side, finding the activity very entertaining. So much so, that after two more steps, she plopped down on her diaper-padded behind, and proceeded to dump the entire basket upside down, squealing with glee as the petals fell all around her. Then, when it was completely empty, she put the wicker object on her head as if it were a hat.

"Papa! P'ity!" she called, stretching out her hands and fisting her fingers several times in a gesture for him to come to her. "Come pay wif me, Papa!" Once again, the entire crowd melted at the endearing sight.

Erik did not hesitate, and strode forward, as if powerless to resist Melody's childish command. But instead of getting down on the floor and playing, as she had requested, he scooped her up and gave her a kiss on the cheek, making her giggle. Removing the basket from her head, he stepped over and handed his daughter to Susan, who sat the little girl between herself and Cathy, quickly pulling out a little container of Honey Nut Cheerios to distract the toddler. Thus, with Melody happily munching away, Erik returned to his place beside Amir, signaling that the procession could continue.

The next to enter was Meg, holding her bouquet of roses out before her as she walked gracefully up the aisle. When she came to the pile of rose petals Melody had left, she gave them an elegant kick, spreading them out a bit more, as many of the guests snickered. When she arrived at the front, she stepped to the left, taking her place opposite of Amir, and turned to wait for the bride.

And there she was, on the arm of her father, in the dress she had chosen because it reminded her of her mother, ready to walk down the aisle for the second time to marry the man she loved.

Erik was stunned, for even though he had seen her in that dress before, this time is was altogether different. This time, instead of fear and hesitation in her eyes, there was only love. His heart beat faster as she began to make her way towards him, and Erik could only stare as he thought back to all that they had been through. He knew he had made mistakes, both in his past and with her, but he would be forever grateful that she was able to look past such things and love him regardless. If he had only known back when he was a child, that he would eventually experience such happiness and joy, he might have been a better person. Yet each and every road he had taken back then had led him to this moment, and he would not trade it for the whole world.

.

.

"You know…it's still not too late to back out," Christine's father leaned over and whispered to her, the two of them nearly half way up the aisle.

"What?" she hissed, looking up at him as if he'd lost his mind. "I'm not backing out!"

"I didn't think so, but I wanted to give you the option nonetheless," Charles chuckled, giving her hand a squeeze. "I know you love him, and I also know that he can't live without you. You two might have had a rough beginning, but the strongest metals are forged in fire. I couldn't be more proud of you, and your choices in life, my darling daughter. I love you so very much."

"And I love you too, Papa," she smiled, doing her best not to cry and smear her makeup. "Thank you for fighting your way back. Having you here today means the world to me."

"For you, Christine…anything," he nodded, giving her a little wink.

And then it was time, they had reached the end of the aisle and Erik stepped forward, holding out his hand to her. Charles, turned to face Christine, giving her a reverent kiss on the cheek and then placed her right hand in Erik's, sandwiching them both between his palms as he spoke.

"The last time I was unable to speak, thus I did not get the chance to give my daughter away," he said in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "And though you two have been married for several years now, on this day, I at last have the honor of placing her hand in yours, and saying without reservations, that I do hereby approve of this marriage…you have my trust and blessing."

"And I will never do anything to betray that or let you down, Sir," Erik swore, bowing his head slightly in respect to the older man. "I will cherish and protect her to the end of my days."

"That's all a father can ask for," Charles nodded. "Thank you, Erik." He then gave them one final tear-filled smile before walking over to sit beside Susan.

Erik then escorted Christine to where the judge stood, the very same one who had officiated over their first wedding three years prior. And just as before, he did a splendid job, saying all the right words and asking all the appropriate questions. When prompted, Christine handed Meg her bouquet and took the ring she offered, allowing Erik to first slip hers back upon her finger, right where it belonged, before she did the same for him. Then it was time, and without hesitation, Erik took Christine in his arms, holding her tightly as he dipped her back and brought his lips to hers for a very passionate kiss. There was a mixture of laughter and hoots of approval from the audience, but the two lovers were oblivious to it all, until little Melody's voice rang out above the rest.

"Kish, kish!" she cried, standing up on the chair as she too blew kisses to her parents, placing her chubby little palm to her mouth and then throwing it out towards them as her lips made silly smacking sounds. "Mama, Papa, kish!"

Erik and Christine then parted, with him setting her back on her feet as they turned and smiled at their little girl. Erik even blew her a kiss back, once again making the child squeal with glee. It was quite evident to all that she simply adored her father.

"It is my happy pleasure, to introduce to all, Mr. and Mrs. Thorn…once again," the judge stated, gesturing that they turn and face the audience, whereupon what felt like a million flashes went off, as nearly everyone took a photo of the happy couple.

.

.

The reception that followed was nothing short of amazing, both the food and atmosphere rivaling that of any party their guests had ever attended. When it came time for their first dance, Christine was shocked when her father stood and picked up his violin, playing so beautifully, accompanied by a few of his fellow performers from the Met. It was a lovely tune, one that allowed Erik to sweep her around the room as they waltzed to the enjoyment of all who watched. Once again, Christine silently thanked Meg for her expert instruction, wondering if when the ballerina chose to hang up her toe-shoes, she might then go into teaching.

Next was the father-daughter dance, and if Christine had been surprised that her father had played for her and Erik's dance, she was completely bowled over when her husband took over, and not only played… _but sang_ , for her and Charles. Though a handful in the audience were aware of Erik's amazing talent, most were taken aback by what they heard. By now Christine had tears streaming down her cheeks, as her father lovingly wiped them dry with his pocket handkerchief. The song was obviously one Erik had written himself, the words telling of a father's love for his daughter, and how he realized that she was his greatest accomplishment from the first moment he held her. Christine recognized them as things both Erik and her father had said on many occasion, her wonderfully amazing husband having put such sentiments to music.

About halfway through the song, Erik invited all the other fathers and daughters in the room to join the couple on the dance floor. The area was quickly filled with a variety of couples, ranging from the very young, to others a bit more seasoned. Phil Chaney escorted his daughter Emma out, while Amir walked over and invited Meg to join him as well. Even Hank carried little Melody onto the dance floor, twirling her around as she laughed and clapped her hands, loving every moment of it. It was a very touching moment for all, one Christine had been only too happy to share, not only with her father, but everyone else as well.

When they were called to cut the cake, a massive structure that towered four layers high, they were careful not to topple it over on them, or any of the guests. After Erik fed Christine her piece, she turned and placed a bite in his mouth as well. Yet before she could pull back, he once again took her hand in his, smiled rather wickedly.

"Holding out on me again, I see," he murmured in a husky voice, placing her frosting tipped finger in his mouth, savoring not only the taste of the sugary confection, but the look of desire that sprang to his wife's eyes as well.

"Oh, no, Mr. Thorn," she smiled, leaning in to replace her lips where her finger had just been. "Everything I have is all yours. And you don't even have to get me to sign a contract to prove it."

At this Erik let out a loud booming laugh, picking up his bride as he spun her around in happiness. Oh, how he loved his little wife.

.

.

A week later, Erik and Christine stood at the railing at the top of the Eiffel Tower, looking out over the city of Paris. It had been a wonderful honeymoon thus far, with her amazing husband showing her all the sights during the day, and making the most exquisite love to her at night.

They had done a great deal of the usual touristy things, and buying tons of souvenirs for everyone back home. They called or Skyped daily with Melody, who was being well cared for by both sets of her grandparents. Erik was not surprised to hear that Amir had yet to show up once, apparently still refusing to change a diaper, or anything else. Oh, but the Persian would learn…and very soon!

.

.

"I don't remember the city being this beautiful when I was here last," he commented, leaning forward as he gazed out over the mass of buildings and the winding river.

"Of course not, you were a child, and views like this were not what you were focused on," she reasoned.

"Child or not, I was always obsessed with beauty…it being something I never thought I would possess," here he reached out and took hold of her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles lovingly. "Maybe that is why being here with you makes everything better. Because in you I have found what I had been lacking."

"You know that to me you will always be the most handsome man in the world, Erik," she assured him. "Take me to see some of the places you remember from when you were younger. If they hold bad memories, we will wipe them clean, and if they were good memories, let me share them with you."

"I would like that very much," he smiled, straighten up as he took one final look at the breathtaking sight before him.

.

.

The Thorn Rose Orphanage had long ago closed down, the building now being used as a cooking school, teaching the young and hopeful chefs of Paris the skills of culinary art. Not much remained to remind him of the sad little boy who had once lived within those brick walls, but still the ghosts remained. Thankfully, Christine's hand in his kept them from tormenting him like he had always feared they would. Now he was whole, he was strong, and he had her love.

Erik then took her to several other places, ending up at the steps of the Palace Garnier, the Paris Opera House. She was amazed by all the intricate artwork and breathtaking statues, not to mention the green patina roof and the figure of Apollo on top, holding up his golden lyre.

"Erik, this place is amazing!" Christine told him, gripping his arm as they stared up at the magnificent façade. "I recognize Apollo up there, but who are the rest of them?"

"There are far too many to name, but rest assured they are all dedicated to musicians, composers and the like," Erik explained, being well versed in the history of this particular building. "Yet the golden ones on either side represent Harmony and Poetry. I used to come here when I was little and wander around this place for hours. I found it rather easy to sneak in, especially if a large group happened to be touring. I became pretty good at blending in, or going unseen, and often I would spend the entire day here, before they would close down for the night. And on quite a few occasions I managed to hide long enough that they locked me in."

"Oh, Erik…were you scared?" Christine gasped, knowing that she would have been for sure.

"Scared? Not in the least," he chuckled. "I had the time of my life! The entire opera house was my playground, from the rooftop to the basement. I even discovered the underground lake that lies beneath."

"You mean there really is a lake under all this?" She had heard of such a thing but never knew if it was a myth or not.

"There is indeed," Erik told her. "As well as many other little secrets I was able to uncover. Would you like me to give you a tour?"

"Yes, please!" she squealed, now doubly excited to get a look inside.

.

.

They made their way to the box office and bought two tickets, something Erik said he would not have needed to do if he were still a child of eight. He then began to take her around, showing Christine all the amazing features the Opera Garnier had to offer. The grand staircase was all she had imagined it would be, and Christine posed for over a dozen photos there alone, with Erik only too willing to humor her. Next it was up to the Grand Foyer, the long room boasting not only exquisite chandeliers, but floor to ceiling mirrors facing the windows on the other side, bathing the entire room in a golden hue. The breathtaking horseshoe auditorium had Christine turning in circles in order to see everything, and she suddenly found herself wondering what it would be like to perform in such a magnificent theater as this. She decided not to voice her thoughts, since she was afraid if she did, Erik might just buy the Opera House for her on a whim.

"How do we get up to those?" Christine asked, pointing at the ornate boxes on either side of the theater. "I would love to see things from up there."

"I fear they are not open to the public," came the voice of an attendant standing nearby. "We only open them for performances."

"Oh, I see, thank you," Christine nodded, thankful for the information, but disappointed by the news.

"Come, my love," Erik whispered. "Remember how I said there were certain secrets of this theater that I alone knew? Allow me to show you one of them."

Curious beyond words, Christine allowed Erik to lead her out of the auditorium and down the stairs to the Rotunda, a circular room surrounded by sixteen fluted columns and smooth tan marble. It had a round plush red velvet seat in the center, looking both inviting and eye-catching. Off to one side there was an arched alcove, nestled between the twin staircases leading back to the grand entryway. Tucked within, there was a lovely statue of a woman, sitting on a pedestal, her left leg and most of her torso, quite unclothed.

"Well, she's rather free with herself," Christine chuckled.

"She is Pythia, the priestess of the temple of Apollo, also known as the Oracle of Delphi," Erik explained, glancing left and right as he monitored the other tourists milling around. "And she holds more secrets than you could imagine."

"Oh, and what might they be?" Christine whispered, instantly intrigued.

"As soon as that couple over there are out of sight…I will show you," Erik promised, acting as if he were admiring the architecture and not watching the people like a hawk.

Yet, the moment the man and woman headed up the stairs, leaving Erik and Christine blissfully alone, he reached out his hand and pressed on a small rosette at the top of the pedestal. To Christine's amazement, one of the marble panels behind the statue moved, revealing an opening.

"Where does it lead?" Christine hissed, her eyes darting from the secret passage, back to the empty room, checking to see that no one was watching them.

"Follow me and find out," Erik invited, holding out his hand as he led the way, pushing the movable slab to the side, before stepping inside and shutting it behind them. With a click, they were engulfed in darkness, causing Christine to clutch at Erik's arm in fear.

"I'm scared!" she whispered, suddenly not at all sure she had made the right choice.

"I will let nothing harm you, my love," Erik insisted. "Do you trust me?"

"You know I do, but…I can't see a thing!" Christine squeaked.

"Give it a moment, your eyes will adjust," he promised, pulling her close and stroking her back reassuringly.

True to his word, as she waited, Christine began to see that it wasn't completely black around them, but that a hundred little pinholes of light shone through all around, and after a bit, she could indeed see shadows and shapes around her.

"The intricate relief patterns on the outside disguise where air holes have been drilled into the walls," Erik explained. "Throughout the entire building there are secret tunnels, leading to more places than I ever had the time, or opportunity, to explore. Yet this one…well, I believe you will enjoy where it leads." And taking her hand, Erik began to lead her up a winding staircase, careful to steady her as they climbed up and up and up.

"Is this where you got your love for secret tunnels?" she whispered, just imagining him here as a little boy, exploring with a huge grin on his face.

"Perhaps," Erik shrugged, though she could tell from the tone of his voice that it was most likely true.

Just when Christine thought they must have reached the roof, Erik stopped and pressed his hand against a wall, causing a slight clicking sound to be heard. This time, when a sliver of light appeared, from floor to ceiling, Christine knew they would be exiting the tunnel the same way they entered. Erik held up his hand, instructing her to stay back, as he peeked out, making sure the coast was clear. When he was certain it was, he motioned for her to follow, stepping out into a dimly lit room filled with soft red cushioned chairs.

"Where are we?" she asked, keeping her voice very low.

"Exactly where you wished to see," he informed her with a grin. "We are in Box Five, overlooking the auditorium."

"Really?" Christine's eyes were wide with excitement. "Can anyone see us? Will we get in trouble?"

"Only if we are caught," he said with a wink.

"Then let's not get caught, all right?" she insisted, tip-toeing around as she checked the place out, even daring to pull the gold fringed curtain aside so that she could peek out over the auditorium. It was just as she had imagined, grand, delightful and very posh. Christine could definitely see herself viewing a ballet or opera from up here.

"Shall I purchase tickets for a show while we are here in Paris?" Erik inquired, apparently having read her mind.

"Can you?" she asked, before laughing quietly when he raised an eyebrow at her foolish questions. "Of course you can, look who I'm talking to. The Great and Powerful Thorn can do anything."

"And never forget it," he teased back, loving that she had so much confidence in him.

"I'm so amazed that you were able to discover all the tunnels and secret passages. Did you know what you were looking for or was it totally by accident?" Christine questioned, letting her hands feel along the wall where they had entered, unable to detect even a slight deviation in the paneling.

"A little of both," he shrugged. "I was looking for a place to hide…I just didn't realize the opera house afforded me so many options. Here is where I spent my first night while locked in." He began to look around, his expression one of nostalgia. "Here I dared to dream of the life I might one day have, of the love that had to be out there somewhere. Some of my fondest memories revolve around this theater…this very room, in fact."

Christine had been wondering when the best time to tell Erik her news might be, and suddenly she knew…it was now, here in Box Five, where a young boy in a mask had once envisioned a better life. Well, she was now about to give him another piece of that. Moving in closer to him, and wrapping her arms around his waist, she stared up into his eyes, loving how they almost glowed in the dim light.

"Remember how you got me that lovely bracelet for our third anniversary…and I told you I had been so busy I didn't have a chance to get you anything?" she began, loving how his strong arms held her so gently.

"I did not require you to buy me anything, Christine," he insisted. "Marrying me again, and coming on this trip, was gift enough."

"Well, thank you for saying so, but the truth is, Pythia isn't the only one who has secrets. Turns out I _did_ get you something," she grinned. "Which was quite difficult, since it's nearly impossible to find something for the man who has everything."

"I only have everything when you are in my arms, my love," he told her, leaning down to kiss her on the tip of her nose.

"Well, now you will have a little _more_ of everything, and this is also something that only I can give you," she told him confidently.

"Christine, I do not think that here is the best place for us to become amorous, no matter how quiet we try to be," he told her in a bit of a shocked tone. Still, always being eager to please his wife, he added, "However…if you insist."

"No, you silly goose! Not that!" she laughed, slapping at his chest playfully. "Although…I suppose that did play a part in my gift." She could tell that Erik was truly confused now, so she chose to end the suspense. "For our third anniversary…I decided to get you a son."

Erik was silent for a few moments, not quite sure what she had meant by that. At last he simply asked for clarification.

"You got me a… _what_?" he stammered.

"Well, I can't be certain, not for a month or two more, but call it a mother's intuition, because I'm nearly certain this time, our child will be a boy." Here she took Erik's hand and laid it over her stomach, which had barely began to show the early signs of her pregnancy. "I'm having another baby, Erik. Melody is going to have a baby brother…or a sister, but I really think it's a brother."

Erik was now completely stunned, his eyes growing wide and his mouth falling open in shock.

"A…another baby?" he gasped. "When?"

"I would say in about seven and a half months, give or take a few days," she grinned, loving how she could still surprise her husband like this. "But I have to say, I won't know how to top this for our fourth anniversary," she giggled.

Before she knew what was happening, Erik lifted Christine off her feet and spun her around, kissing her lips quite soundly the moment she was securely back on the floor.

"A baby! And a son, you say?" he questioned, looking down at her stomach with a smile of pure pride. "I don't care what it will be…I am in love with it already. Thank you, my angel," Erik said, kissing her over and over again. "You have made me the happiest man alive…again!"

"Well, I'm pretty tickled about the whole thing as well," she said with a smug smile. "And as much as I loved this private tour you gave me…I kind of want to be alone with you in another place right now, if you get my meaning."

"Oh, I most assuredly do," he nodded, walking over to the door to the box and peeked out the little round porthole style window, checking to see if anyone was lurking around. When he saw no signs of anyone, he motioned for her to join him, taking hold of her hand as he gave it a gentle kiss. "Shall we slip out of here and make our way back to the hotel? I would very much like to thank you properly for the wonderful gift you have given me."

"Oh, by all means," she grinned. "Far be it from me to turn down my Phantom's Proposal. But…" Christine said, suddenly turning very serious. "There is one thing you must promise me. Something very important."

"Anything Christine," he swore, knowing that he would rope the moon for her if she only asked. "Request it of me, and it shall be done."

"You are not allowed, under any circumstance to ever…" she paused there for emphasis, "…name our son Opus."

It took all of a heartbeat before Erik began to laugh, loving just how amusing his little wife could be.

"Very well, Christine, as you wish," he nodded, adding with a note of finality. "We shall name him Magnum."

"Magnum?" Christine repeated, then her eyes grew wide. " _As in Magnum Opus_?" she accused, shaking her head in utter frustration and amusement.

"Precisely," He nodded smugly, rather proud of his idea. "Or perhaps Magnus…they both mean the same thing. And after all, our children _are_ our greatest work." And before she could say another word, or argue over his inspired name, Erik took Christine in his arms once more. Suddenly, all thoughts of exiting the box, or getting back to the hotel, had vanished from his mind. He even forgot about the daily worries and concerns about having to wear a mask to cover a deformed face. For at that moment, all Erik Thorn cared about was the woman in his arms…and how much he truly loved his precious little Christine.

And he knew he always would.

 **THE END**

* * *

 **Well, there you have it. All done.**

 **Erik and Christine will get a son, name him Magnus Hank Charles Thorn, and live happily ever after.**

 **I hope you liked how I tied everything together. Did you enjoy Farmer Erik and Farm-girl Christine?**

 **Were you shocked about Antoinette and Amir going to be parents?**

 **Look they got their honeymoon at last, and since Erik no longer hates Paris, that is where they went.**

 **And I couldn't let an Erik story end without him in the Opera House!**

 **No immediate plans for a new story at the moment, but don't go writing me off too quickly, ha ha.**

 **Please leave a review to say farewell.**

 **Thank you all very, very much.**

* * *

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **And since this IS the last chapter, I will be unable to respond to your final reviews - but please know that I have thoroughly enjoyed each and every one of them and thank you all for your continued and diligent comments. They meant a lot. Farewell...for now.**

 **GuestWraithSnake:** Thank you very much. I couldn't let things just be all hunkey-dory between Charles and Erik...there had to be a reckoning! So happy that the ending is pleasing to you. They are the hardest to write...because you really want to make them the BEST! I would never have let Erik faint...but it was fun to make him light headed, ha ha. Glad you liked the baby's full name. I thought it important that she have something original, while also taking on a bit of the two mothers in there as well. This will be the end for a bit at least...but we will see. And I will miss your reviews as well. Thanks for being such a loyal reviewer. And it brought the two closer too. I have indeed thought of writing something original...but so far nothing inspired me to do so. But you never know! I will miss your reviews as well. No idea what I might do next, if it will be an Erik story or if I might hop back over to Middle Earth...or go conquer another fandom. ha ha. Thanks again so much. PF33

 **Cayla:** Ha ha, gushing now is a good preemptive strike. ha ha. Thank you so much for enjoying it so much, as well as liking my characters and the pacing. I did a lot of thinking, a lot of note-taking, and a lot of planning before I came up with my idea. Erik is always flawed...but in a good way, we love him for it. But I'm happy you felt they were more than just one-denominational characters. Modern day WAS a challenge, but I would do it again in a heartbeat. Erik does hold a special place in my heart, and I will more than likely always come back to him, but no plans at the moment for what I might right next. I felt like that punch was a bonding thing for Erik and Charles...they are on the same footing now, equals you might say. Hmmm, lets see...Charles, Amir, Hank and maybe Gerald...only they could hit Erik and walk away. Phil...MAYBE. Raoul...dead meat. ha ha. Glad you like Melody and her name, Erik will be a fine daddy. No, he didn't faint, but he ALMOST did, ha ha. He's a big old marshmallow at heart. I truly hope you enjoyed the ending, and look forward to your thoughts. Please know I will be reading them with a big smile and I thank you in advance. Your obedient servant, FP.

 **Guest RP:** Glad someone caught that famous line! I worried no one would. ha ha. Ha ha, Rose Thorn...never thought of that. And that was also the name of the Orphanage he grew up in, so probably not the best name. Charles is indeed up and around...and taking on Erik too. ha ha. Erik moved all his exercise equipment into his house, so he can keep that sexy body in shape at home. Erik was not in the same room with her when she was feeling them...well, I guess she'd been having them for a while, but still, men are somewhat oblivious at times. And YES, Erik does over-react a TEENIE bit at times. ha ha. (understatement of the year). Thanks so much for all your kind words throughout the story, FP33.

 **Katie B:** sooooo happy that you are pleased...no, wait...you said 'very satisfied'. And that's even better! Thanks so much! FP33

 **Kristin:** A snippet card was my way of rewarding readers when they guessed an answer or spotted one of my other story titles in this one, etc. They would win a free peek at the next chapter ahead of time. Unfortunately, only those with accounts could get them, since I can't send a PM to guest reviewers...the FF site won't let me. Sorry. The next chapter will work out a lot more kinks and tie everything up with a nice black ribbon. ha ha. Glad you liked that they had a daughter and what they named her. I had to think long and hard to come up with something new. ha ha. Yes, Charles had been saving that punch up for a long time, Erik was just glad he was still a bit weak...can you imagine what he might have done at full strength? Their family is fun...Every last one of them. Thank you very, very much for your diligent reviews. *tips hat* FP33


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